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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167838">X-Pressions of the Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareyen/pseuds/sareyen'>sareyen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Charles, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is in a boyband, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a music journalist, Fluff and Smut, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Music, Smitten Erik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:40:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareyen/pseuds/sareyen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy band AU:</p><p>Erik is a music journalist at the 'Brotherhood of Music'. He's a harsh-tongued music snob, and is known for his honest yet oftentimes brutal and scathing reviews; he will praise artists if they deserve it, but he will just as easily bury them in the dust. When his boss asks (blackmails) him to write a piece about a popular boy band called X-Boys, Erik is sure that they're going to be utter trash, and can't wait to break them to pieces with his prose.</p><p>But, one of the group's members catches his eye with his floppy hair and blue eyes (and excellent ass). Charles Xavier is not like the cookie-cutter boy band member Erik had been expecting to interview, and even though he is all merry smiles, smooth English accent and  flirtatious charm, Erik can't help but fall under his spell, just like everyone else.</p><p>Erik was planning on writing a scathing review on the tacky, recycled group X-Boys, but somehow ended up with a love letter to one Charles Xavier instead.</p><p> </p><p>Or: Erik is a mean music journalist, Charles is a member of a tacky boy band, and they fall in love</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik Lehnsherr &amp; Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no clue about how the music industry works, so if there are mad errors, please pretend everything makes sense!<br/>Also, X-Boys is a terrible name for a boy-band, and I snorted every time I typed it out (which was a lot) - I hate the name almost as much as Erik hates it.<br/>And, I really play up the boy band stereotype just for shits and giggles and not because I'm a genuine hater of boy bands or anything (I may or may not unironically enjoy listening to 1D, sue me).<br/>Enjoy! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck no,” Erik said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down his boss, Emma Frost. Even though he was standing while she was sitting at her desk, the immaculately-dressed woman did not flinch as she regarded Erik with something bordering on apathy. Emma simply gestured her white-sleeved arm at the chair opposite her desk, Erik glaring at her before plonking himself down.</p><p>“You didn’t even hear what I wanted you to do,” Emma said, manicured nails clacking on her keyboard as she responded to emails from some of the other music journalists under her employment.</p><p>“I saw your face – you’re definitely going to try and make me do something I don’t want to do,” Erik grumbled, but Emma ignored him, eyes glued onto the computer screen in front of her.</p><p>Erik opened his mouth to say something along the lines of <em>‘why did you call me in here if you’re just going to answer emails’, </em>but was cut off when Emma just raised a finger in a brisk ‘shut up’ motion. Erik swallowed his annoyance, sinking further into his chair and glaring at his boss.</p><p>Erik had been working for Emma and her music journalism company ‘Brotherhood of Music’ for years, and is her longest-serving and closest journalist under her payroll. Erik had been there since the beginning, and had <em>almost</em> been made a co-CEO, but Erik hadn’t wanted to be stuck inside the office answering emails all day. No, he had wanted to be <em>amongst </em>the music, in the heart of it.</p><p>Emma was unphased by Erik’s rudeness, too used to his abrasive personality after years of working with him. Erik was really the only employee who could blatantly disrespect Emma this way; none of the other employees had the balls to talk back to the woman they dubbed the ‘Ice Queen’ while controlling their pay checks. Erik, on the other hand, was known around the small office as ‘The Shark’, and terrified all of his co-workers.</p><p>Emma finally finished responding to the morning’s emails, turning to Erik with a smooth swivel of her plush white leather chair. Emma flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and linked her fingers together as she leaned on her desk, smiling at him with a little too much feigned sweetness etched into her features. Erik narrowed his eyes, alert.</p><p>“I have a job for you, sugar,” Emma said, Erik snorting.</p><p>“Not with that expression, you don’t,” Erik countered. “Spit it out, Emma.”</p><p>“I <em>do </em>have a job for you, don’t need to be such a sour puss about it,” Emma said languidly, glossy lips beginning to spread into a smile, one that Erik did not like at all. Whenever Emma had <em>that </em>smile, she was definitely roping him into a job he did not want to do. The last time he saw that smile, he had ended up being stuck on a week-long tour with a terrible, <em>terrible </em>punk band that had vocals that he likened to a cat being dismembered. Not only was the music bad, Erik had been forced to stay with the band in their shitty, cockroach-infested hotel and dragged to their Satanic ritual parties, in which Erik was <em>sure </em>cats were actually being dismembered ‘for the music’.</p><p>“Whatever it is, I’m not doing it Emma,” Erik said again, his boss just grinning. Another reason Erik hated that look on Emma’s face was because she <em>knew </em>that Erik would give in. Even after working with Emma for so long, Erik hadn’t been able to fend off Emma’s power of persuasion (or manipulation, and sometimes, blackmail) to get what she wants. That’s why she was called the Ice Queen – no one could say no to the Queen, not even the resident shark.</p><p>“I do find it adorable how you think you have a say in this, sugar. But yes, you <em>will</em> do this job,” Emma said, laughing. “Whether you like it or not, Erik, I’m assigning you to cover X-Boys. I’m sure even <em>you</em> know who they are?”</p><p>
  <em>X-Boys.</em>
</p><p>Who <em>didn’t </em>know X-Boys? Even Erik, who abhorred modern pop music like it was the plague knew of X-Boys, the newest teenage-centric generic recycled boyband hitting the music scene. X-Boys, who had been formed on a shitty TV show after producers didn’t know what to do with five somewhat aesthetically pleasing tween-looking foetuses with less pleasing voices. X-Boys, who made the shittiest, cheesiest and most lyrically bland music in history?</p><p>“Fuck no,” Erik said quickly, getting up from his chair. “No, Emma. I’d take ‘Satan Katz’ and their satanic sacrificial blood magic and demon orgies over X-Boys <em>any </em>day. Hell, I’d take interviewing <em>Jojo Siwa</em> over X-Boys. Nope. No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening, Emma.”</p><p>“Erik, sit,” Emma ordered, but Erik just flipped her off as he made for the door. “If you do this job, I’ll delete <em>The Photo</em> from my hard drive.”</p><p>Erik, hand on the doorknob, paused. Emma was already smiling in smug victory before Erik even turned back around, hesitant scowl on his face.</p><p>“You’d delete it from <em>all </em>of your hard drives?” Erik asked, Emma smiling sweetly, gesturing back to the chair in front of her.</p><p>“Sit, Erik.”</p><p>Erik sat.</p><p>“Now, I know how you feel about pop music and boy bands, and trust me, I would have sent anyone else to do this if I could. Even if you don’t like them, X-Boys is <em>big</em>, and I can’t afford one of the new journalists to fuck it up,” Emma said, Erik snorting.</p><p>“What about Angel? She usually covers all of this pop shit, while I cover <em>real </em>music,” Erik said, Emma rolling her eyes at that.</p><p>It was no secret that Erik was a bit of a music snob, but should anyone be surprised? Erik was a music journalist, it was literally his job to be able to differentiate good music from utterly shitty music, and frankly, modern pop was a huge churning pit of recycled one-chord trash with lyrics that sounded like they were written by mid-pubescent horny teenagers who had discovered their right hands for the first time.</p><p>Erik did not waste his time interviewing wannabe artists like X-Boys. No, Erik interviewed real artists, like Big Black, Wire, Neil Young and The Clash. Erik wanted to interview real legends, like Elton John and Fleetwood Mac. Not X-Boys, with their clean-cut looks, floppy hair and fucking baby voices that needed two layers of autotune to even make their songs a fraction more tolerable.</p><p>A <em>fraction.</em></p><p>“Angel is busy covering both Taylor Swift <em>and </em>Katy Perry right now, so she’s spread a little thin. Plus, Erik, you’re my best, and we need this article to do well, whether you praise them or-”</p><p>“I would <em>never </em>praise them,” Erik scoffed, Emma giving Erik a resigned look.</p><p>“<em>Or </em>break them to pieces with your prose, <em>whatever. </em>People always read your work even if it’s about an obscure band only you’ve heard playing in shitty bars, Erik, so covering a big group like X-Boys will be good for the company. You know that music journalism hasn’t been as… lucrative as in the past. We need this, for the company,” Emma sighed. That was true; the company hadn’t been doing particularly well lately, even after shifting to a more online publication medium. Erik also blamed modern pop on that; there was no real music to review any more, just pop artists churning out the same albums over and over.</p><p>Erik stared at his boss, noticing the slight crease in her brow. If Emma was letting herself develop <em>wrinkles</em>, then things were, maybe, quite dire.</p><p>“… And you said you’ll delete The Photo?” Erik said slowly, Emma’s mouth twitching.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You promise?”</p><p>“Yes, Erik. I promise. I’ll delete it from my phone, my work computer, my laptop <em>and </em>my three hard drives. Capiche?”</p><p>“Fine,” Erik grumbled out, already developing a minor headache. “I’ll interview the prepubescent children who don’t have a lick of creativity in their tone-deaf bones.”</p><p>“There’s our shark. Sounds like you already have a title for your article,” Emma said, Erik grinning at that with a full show of his teeth.</p><p>***</p><p>“Hey, Charles, Hank and I are gonna head off first,” Alex called, blonde hair peeking out from around the door frame of the dance studio.</p><p>“Alright, have a good night,” Charles replied, smiling at his band mates, who had already showered and were dressed in casual clothes, bags slung over their shoulders. Hank frowned a little at Charles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his sharp nose.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to have dinner with us?” Hank asked, worried for his friend. Charles warmed at his concern, but waved it away, leaning over to continue stretching his limbs in front of the mirrors that spanned the entirety of the wall in front of him, only obscured by the ballet barre.</p><p>“I’m sure, Hank. I just want to practise the choreography a bit more, you know how the second verse of Love Me, Hate Me trips me up. Go and enjoy dinner,” Charles assured his friends, who glanced at each other before nodding, waving as they left. Charles heard their footsteps echo down the now-empty halls and the swing of the dance studio doors, before everything was plunged into silence once again.</p><p>It was just past 6:30 in the evening, and the band had been practicing the choreography for their concert tour scheduled to start in just under a month. It was their first world tour, and Charles was immensely excited, but also beyond nervous.</p><p>Charles had always loved singing and music, but he had never expected to get to where he was today – in a world-famous boy band about to embark on a world tour. When Charles had entered the X Factor, he had just been a college graduate whose singing experience started and ended with belting out heartfelt ballads or emotional acoustic songs in the shower, performing for the bottles of shampoo and conditioner lining the shower caddy.</p><p>Charles had auditioned by singing an original song of his, one called <em>Paralysed</em>. He had written the first iteration of his life-changing song when he was only fourteen and feeling like he had hit rock bottom. Charles had fallen into a dark place, the heavy-handed torment supplied by Cain and the coldness at the hands of his mother dragging him somewhere no child should ever have to tread. He had felt trapped and paralysed in his palatial family home, and those feelings had inspired what, at the time, had just been a poem scribbled into the margin of his notebook and a background hum in his head.</p><p>He had finished writing the song, as well as many others, by the time he had graduated with a degree in genetics (something he was interested in apart from music), but he never thought that it would ever be more than a hobby.</p><p>But then, Raven had apparently submitted a video of him singing to the X Factor production team, and that was how he found himself on the show. He hadn’t gone through as a solo act like he had originally planned, since his talent apparently wasn’t enough to stand on its own, and had been pushed into a group with four strangers into a group called X-Boys alongside Alex Summers, Hank McCoy, Sean Cassidy and Armando Muñoz.</p><p>They had been strangers back then, four boys completely out of their depth on national television, but they had grown a lot since that first live show. The strangers became friends – <em>family</em>, even – and now they were one of, if not <em>the, </em>biggest boy bands in the world.</p><p>Charles still found himself wondering how this happened to him; inside, he was still the guy who sang Celine Dion in the shower and wrote an ode dedicated to cup noodles (a short song titled ‘MSG and Me’ that had been a party favourite at college). On the outside, though, he was Charles Xavier, oldest member of X-Boys and, probably, the most left-footed member of the group.</p><p>Charles, fundamentally, was a singer-songwriter. He hadn’t ever really thought that he would be a member of a boy band that not only had to sing, but <em>dance </em>at the same time. It wasn’t that Charles never danced – he had danced quite a lot in college, but mainly when he was drunk as a skunk, and even then it had veered more into ‘lap dance’ territory than actual choreographed dance moves.</p><p>Still, Charles could move. He just had a bit of trouble memorising such complex choreography, especially when compared to the other members of his group. Even the shy and dorky Hank picked up the choreography faster than Charles, the boy somehow quick-footed and with a strong, powerful body.</p><p>So, that was why Charles often stayed behind in the dance studio, even when the rest of his band mates had gone home. Tonight was no exception, and Charles sighed heavily as he stopped stretching and stood up. His dance clothes were already damp with sweat from the day’s rehearsals, the loose tank-top sticking to his back and the inner layer of his black sweatpants far too humid. Charles’s brown hair clung to his pale forehead, and his cheeks were flushed with colour from the exercise.</p><p>Charles took a drink from his water bottle, before flicking through his phone to replay <em>Love Me, Hate </em>Me for what felt like the millionth time that night. The heavy electronic beat began to pump through the speakers his phone was connected to, and Charles closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, before launching into the choreography, determined to nail the routine this time.</p><p><em>‘This is important to all of us,’ </em>Charles thought to himself as he spun, sweat droplets flying through the air. <em>‘I have to work harder so I don’t let them down.’</em></p><p>Charles danced late into the night, and by the time he went home, he had no more energy to expend and promptly passed out on his bed, hoping to get enough rest so he could rinse and repeat the day after.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>“You’ll be allowed to follow them around while they prepare for the tour,” Emma told Erik, who was looking more and more sour as Emma gave him the details of his assignment. “Their record company, Hellfire Records, has allowed you and only you such intimate coverage, so use it wisely. You’ll interview them during their rehearsals and preparation, talk about their newly released album, and then review their concert at the end. That’s it.”</em>
</p><p>“That’s <em>it</em>?” Erik huffed to himself, scratching his bare stomach as he waited for his coffee machine to spit out his strong, black coffee, which he would definitely need if he was going to get through his background research of X-Boys. Coffee, and maybe a couple pops of aspirin (or Valium), would hopefully get him through listening to their ear-grating album without wanting to throw himself off the roof of his apartment complex.</p><p>Erik was going to meet the band for the first time in just under a week for preliminary interviews, and even though he hated the assignment, he was still going to do his job. Unlike most of the other artists he usually covered for Brotherhood of Music, he knew nothing about X-Boys except that they’re a group of prissy boys who sing inane songs about love and breakups, with ‘Baby, you’re so beautiful, a work of art,” being the most lyrical line in any of their songs, which, to Erik, sounded like carbon copies of one another.</p><p>Erik was already growing irritated by the time his old coffee machine had finished dribbling out the last of his brew, and Erik padded back to his couch with his mug, settling into the centre dip. He kicked his legs up onto his coffee table, pulled his sticker-laden laptop onto his grey-sweatpant clothed thighs, and quickly searched up X-Boys on Google.</p><p>Erik immediately let out a disgusted noise from the back of his throat as a few fan sites popped up, all just sounding like screaming teenage girls who were the type to cover their walls in a collage of their favourite celebrity’s teen magazine posters while writing fan fiction about having babies with their perfect, family-friendly crushes.</p><p>Erik went to Wikipedia first, just to get a grasp of the members of the group, of which Erik found out there were five. Erik glanced at the names, only lingering long enough to memorise them for future reference when he would need to interview them.</p><p>As Erik read, his preconceived notions about the band were only confirmed; they really were another mass-produced company group, a ragtag bunch of boys who dreamed big but delivered little, famous because they were maybe a little pretty. Or, at least, that kind of short one with the really blue eyes that the camera could somehow pick up from far away was kind of pretty.</p><p><em>But</em>, he was probably 16-years-old, <em>maximum</em>, and Erik grimaced. Looking up some more articles about them, most of them titled <em>‘New Boys on the Block!’ </em>or <em>‘The Next 1D!’, </em>Erik began to find out more about the individual members. From the texts Erik flicked through, it seemed like Hank McCoy was the designated ‘endearingly shy’ member, while Alex Summers was the token blonde white boy with a slight bad-boy streak. Sean Cassidy was the goofy one that could apparently sing ridiculously high, while Armando Muñoz (stage name Darwin, for some reason) was the politically correct addition so critics couldn’t say that there was <em>no </em>diversity (but putting <em>one </em>black member into a group was a piss-poor attempt at making things inclusive). All four of these guys were 20 or under, making Erik roll his eyes. Their mothers must be so proud that they were all millionaires while still sucking on their teats.</p><p>Lastly, there was Charles Xavier, the oldest member at 24 years old. 24 wasn’t particularly young, not when the majority of the band were still technically teens. Xavier was only 6 years younger than Erik, which in the long run, wasn’t <em>that </em>much of an age difference. What was ridiculous about him, though, was that he was the jailbait-looking guy with the floppy brown hair, bottomless blue eyes, and, now that Erik was looking at a high-definition group shot taking up the majority of his screen, bright red lips that looked more obscene than appropriate for a teenage wet dream. <em>Gott.</em></p><p>Even though the group was adamant that they didn’t have a ‘leader’, Xavier seemed to be the spokesperson for the group. Erik was sure that was just on the basis of <em>age </em>and not <em>talent</em>, because like Hell any of these boys would actually have a shred of musicality with their ‘<em>doof-doof baby come here’ </em>tracks.</p><p>Xavier also looked like the paragon of ‘Boy Band Member’ – he was overly smiley, exceptionally kind and respectful, eloquent and handsome in a boyish, youthful way. Even the cynical, music snob Erik had to admit that the guy was attractive, even if he looked like his voice hadn’t broken yet. And to look like that at 24, that was just… not right. The guy could attract paedophiles <em>legally</em>.</p><p>Erik closed the tabs, Charles Xavier’s face disappearing from his screen, and the journalist moved on to listen to their new album – <em>X-Pression</em>. <em>G'tt</em>, the title name almost gave Erik a stroke. The album cover was a painful attempt at being artistic, with the five boys lying with their heads together submerged in water, wearing all white and looking pensive. Ugh. Erik’s cup of coffee was already drained, but he hadn’t needed to reach for the aspirin – yet. Reading about the group was one thing, but needing to <em>listen </em>to them was a whole other ball game.</p><p>Erik considered getting some headphones like he usually would if he were listening to another artist that he was covering, but he couldn’t do it. Erik’s ears weren’t insured, and he needed his ears for his job. There was no way he was risking the safety of his ear drums for a group like X-Boys.</p><p>So, Erik listened to the X-Pression album, and by the end, he really wished his eardrums had blown <em>before </em>having to listen to that horror.</p><p>It was <em>terrible</em>.  Terrible couldn’t even cut it. Copy-and-pasted beats overlaid with the same three-chord progressions and electronic beeping every other artist used. The lyrics to their songs were all bland and emotionless, and Erik would have been more inspired by Kristen Stewart reading him the daily weather report. Erik shouldn’t have been surprised, though, not when the first three songs on the album were called ‘Sweet Love’, ‘Strawberry Crush’ and ‘Love Me, Hate Me’.</p><p>“Music is dead,” Erik groaned to himself, walking to his kitchen and popping an aspirin into his mouth and swallowing it down with some whisky, not caring if the mix made him shit blood later. Anything was better than the splitting headache that 14-song torture tracklist gave him.</p><p>Erik had to give himself a break, flushing out his system with some real music and another glass of scotch. If he was going to move on to their group’s <em>music videos</em> (<em>G'tt help him</em>) he wasn’t going to do it 100% sober.</p><p>Sooner than he would like, Erik searched up the group on YouTube, watching their latest music video for <em>Sweet Love</em>. It was everything Erik expected – a group of boys in outfits that screamed <em>twink </em>to Erik, but apparently <em>sex-bomb</em> to 14-year-olds worldwide, dancing to the excessively perky pop song like they loved nothing more than shimmying to <em>‘your sweet love sustains me, girl, yeah, your sweet love sustains me’.</em></p><p><em>‘But wow, Xavier’s ass…’ </em>Erik thought idly to himself, ignoring all of the other members, his eyes immediately falling to the oldest member of the group. In Xavier’s white pants, he could see the plush curves of his ample ass, which swung left and right as he danced. Xavier was by no means the best dancer out of the five, but there was something mesmerising about the way he moved his hips, the motion strangely obscener than Erik expected the blue-eyed boy to be capable of.</p><p><em>‘I bet that ass would be great riding my cock,’ </em>Erik thought to himself, before realising what he was staring at and thinking about, letting out a choked noise.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em>,” Erik growled to himself, tearing his eyes from Xavier’s ass, wondering what the <em>hell </em>had gotten into him. It was the whisky. It had to be the whisky.</p><p>And maybe the fact that Erik hadn’t gotten laid for a good minute.</p><p>Slamming the screen of his laptop down, Erik made himself focus on other things, and actively pushed all thoughts of Xavier’s blue eyes, red lips and perky ass out of his mind.</p><p>***</p><p>It was a Monday morning at 10:30am, and Charles had his leg kicked up on the ballet barre, leaning to stretch his joints before another practise session. Even though they had most of the choreography down pat now, they still had to keep up regular practises to make sure their bodies didn’t lose the ingrained movements or the fluidity and elasticity of their limbs.</p><p>Today, though, they would apparently have a guest observing them, and Charles was more excited about practise than usual. The owner of X-Boys’s record label, Sebastian Shaw, dictated the group’s actions with an iron fist, and everything X-Boys was involved in was either run by him first or designed by him. Charles wasn’t overly fond of the man, even if he had given Charles his big break – Shaw was, in the end, a business man, and Charles felt like he couldn’t care less about the music. Sometimes Charles felt a little bit like a marionette, but in the end, X-Boys’s music made their fans happy, and that’s what Charles wanted.</p><p>But, one of Shaw’s decisions that Charles did like, was that he had hired Erik Lehnsherr to cover X-Boys’s <em>X-Pression World Tour</em>. Charles was a fan of Lehnsherr’s work, and had been following his articles long before Raven had auditioned him for X Factor. Lehnsherr’s prose was blatantly honest, never lavishing praise on the artists he covered if he didn’t deem them fit for it, nor did he ever criticise just for the sake of it. He wrote about what was great and what was bad about artists and their music without bias, just appreciating the music for what it was – <em>music. </em></p><p>Charles had discovered a lot of great music from reading Lehnsherr’s articles, and knew the man had great taste. It also didn’t help that Charles knew he was drop-dead gorgeous. Though Lehnsherr mainly produced written pieces, a number of years ago he had done a video interview with the lead singer of a popular metal band called ‘Devilish Teleporter’, whose stage name was Azazel. The video had gone viral because Lehnsherr had ripped into the man’s music so hard in person that the <em>devil </em>actually cried.</p><p>Erik Lehnsherr was, undeniably, <em>hot</em>. Charles’s exact type – ruggedly handsome, chiselled features, sharp jaw and mesmerising blue-grey eyes. 16-year-old Charles had definitely wanked to mental images of Lehnsherr ever since that video came out 8 years ago, and Charles never thought he would ever get to meet him in real life.</p><p>Charles knew that Lehnsherr never covered musicians like X-Boys, but the romantic in Charles couldn’t help but think that maybe this was just meant to be. Charles laughed at himself at the silly thought, amused and giddy, before returning his focus to loosening up his quads.</p><p>Sean and Darwin chatted lightly as they also stretched, while Hank was busy warming up his throat, always a bit nervous when he knew he was going to be interviewed. Alex, on the other hand, was doing push ups in front of the mirror – he was apparently trying to bulk up a bit before the world tour, making Charles chuckle in amusement.</p><p>“Hey, Charles,” a female voice said, drawing nearer to him. Charles turned from where he was leaning over his legs, smiling when he saw Moira MacTaggert walking over to him, hand raised in a wave. Charles returned it, dropping his leg and meeting her halfway across the room.</p><p>Moira was X-Boys’s manager and a good friend of Charles’s. Moira and Charles had become good friends, mainly because they were somewhat close in age, Moira only three years older than Charles. The rest of the group teasingly called them the group’s Mother and Father, though Sean did so a little grudgingly (he had a very obvious boner for Moira, even though she made it clear that she could not see an 18-year-old like that, legal or not).</p><p>“Hey, Moira. How has your morning been?” Charles asked chirpily, Moira smiling at him after they hugged.</p><p>“Same as usual, which means <em>busy</em>,” Moira said, huffing. “Shaw’s got me running around with the tour approaching, plus organising time for interviews with the guy from Brotherhood of Music.” Charles’s stomach fluttered at the mention of Lehnsherr, but Moira didn’t notice. “I read some of that guy’s work – he’s <em>harsh</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Honest</em>, Moira,” Charles said, laughing a little. “He’s just honest. It’s not a bad thing.”</p><p>“It will be if he starts ripping into you guys,” Moira sighed, giving Charles a knowing look. Another reason why Charles and Moira got along well was the fact that they knew X-Boys’s music was pretty… shallow. Charles liked it because it made their fans happy, and it was genuinely fun dancing and singing with his friends, but in terms of musical inspiration, Charles knew X-Boys was not it.</p><p>Charles himself wrote songs better than the work Shaw chose for them, but apparently his music didn’t have the right ‘vibe’ for the band. So, Charles kept his music to himself, sometimes performing it for Moira or his sister, Raven. Or the shampoo and conditioner in his shower.</p><p>Mainly for his shampoo and conditioner.</p><p>“I don’t get why Shaw asked Brotherhood to cover you guys,” Moira muttered under her breath, Charles shrugging.</p><p>“I think Shaw knows the CEO, Emma Frost? I overheard that Shaw had asked for one of their other journalists to cover us, a reporter named Angel Salvadore, since she usually writes flattering reviews about pop artists. But Frost assigned Lehnsherr instead.”</p><p>“Must have been a bad break up,” Moira sighed, Charles snorting.</p><p>“At least to Frost. Shaw is still trying to get back with her,” Charles said, the two friends chuckling, before Moira’s phone buzzed, giving Charles an exasperated look. “Go, it’s probably Shaw about the journalist. He should be coming sometime soon.”</p><p>Moira nodded, quickly walking out of the room with her fingers tapping furiously on her phone, and Charles returned to stretching his limbs.</p><p>It was when Charles was bending over into a comfortable downward dog that the door to the studio opened, first revealing Shaw and Moira, and followed by the one and only Erik Lehnsherr. Charles immediately blushed when the man’s eyes drifted across him after casting a cursory glance over the rest of the room. Charles was sure that he was imagining that Lehnsherr’s eyes lingered on him a little more than the other members.</p><p><em>‘Wishful thinking,’ </em>Charles thought to himself, straightening back up as the group headed over to where Shaw was looking at them sternly.</p><p>“Boys, this is Erik Lehnsherr from Brotherhood of Music. He’ll be covering your tour in their publication,” Shaw said a little stiffly, eyeing Lehnsherr’s imposing form discreetly. He then turned his gaze onto the young boys, giving them all hard looks. <em>‘So behave,’ </em>his eyes warned silently, and Charles could feel Hank gulp beside him. Shaw nodded to Erik, patting his shoulder, before heading out.</p><p>Alex, Sean, Darwin and Hank were all aware of Lehnsherr’s reputation, and warily looked at each other. It was just Charles who stepped forward, extending a hand towards the man, warm smile on his face.</p><p>“Hi, Mr Lehnsherr, it’s great to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work. Oh, and I guess I should introduce myself – I’m Charles Xavier, but please call me Charles,” Charles said smoothly, and Erik’s brow creased for a moment, before smoothing out and taking Charles’s hand, shaking it with a firm grasp. Erik’s hand was warm and slightly rough, and Charles shivered at the touch.</p><p>Charles hadn’t realised that Erik was so much taller than him, and had to tilt his head upwards to meet his eyes. And <em>God</em>, Erik was much more attractive in person than in the video. That video was made 8 years ago, and Erik had only grown into his looks now that he was thirty. He had been clean-shaven back then, but now sported a sultry dusting of ginger scruff across his stoic jaw, and Charles was a goner.</p><p>It wasn’t conducive to PG-13 thoughts when Erik Lehnsherr was wearing dark jeans which showed off long and lean legs (plus what Charles could make out as a sizeable cock), white V-neck top exposing sensual collar bones and a well-worn leather jacket. A walking wet dream, if Charles had ever seen one.</p><p>“Nice to meet you too, Charles,” Erik said, voice smooth yet gruff. “And just call me Erik.”</p><p>“Erik, then,” Charles repeated, smiling as his tongue wrapped around the name. Moira narrowed her eyes, picking up on the slight change in Charles’s tone and eyes.</p><p>Charles was older than the other members, who had joined X-Boys as teens, and thus not having had a college experience. Charles, though, had joined after he got his degree, and lived through three solid years of college and partaking in everything that it had to offer.</p><p>Charles had been pretty liberal with his body at college, something that Moira and the rest of the company’s management had kept pretty hush-hush. It was easy to persuade the public that Charles Xavier was a complete angel, a picture of innocence, with his shorter stature, baby face and angel-blue eyes. But, his high school and college friends knew better than to be fooled – yes, Charles was kind and sweet, but he was also wild in the sack and, in college, was not shy in making that known.</p><p>Before he became famous, Charles was not unfamiliar with picking up men and women from bars, and he was very successful at that too. Charles felt a surge of excitement bubble up inside him – it had been a long time since he had been able to flirt with a dirty edge, usually only being playfully flirty and charming for cameras and fans.</p><p>The look he gave Erik now, though, was not playfully flirty.</p><p>It was downright <em>filthy</em>, and if he had used it in a bar, he would probably be in the bathroom sucking the man off.</p><p>Erik’s eyes narrowed a little, thin lips pressing together tightly. Charles and Erik just stared at each other for a moment, before there was a cough from behind Erik, Charles remembering that they weren’t alone in the room. Moira had coughed, giving Charles a raised brow which he ignored, turning to his band mates.</p><p>“These are the other members of X-Boys,” Charles said, pretending that he hadn’t just been sexing Erik up with his eyes. Sean, Hank, Darwin and Alex introduced themselves one by one, Erik just giving them curt nods, before turning back to Charles with a direct gaze. His grey eyes were contemplative, like he was trying to figure Charles out. Or, like he was trying to imagine what he looked like out of his slightly revealing dance outfit.</p><p>“Um…” Charles started, licking his lips. “We were about to start dance rehearsals. I suppose you’ll be wanting to see that, so you can mention it in your piece on us? Moira said that she gave us time for some prelim interviews after, is that right?”</p><p>“Yeah, whatever,” Erik said brusquely, nodding and stepping back to lean on a purposefully exposed concrete wall, arms crossed. Charles could hazard a guess that Erik could care less about them and their dancing, and probably cared about their music less, which made him a little glum. He had expected that to be the case after following Erik’s work, but it still hurt when people dismissed their work so quickly. Sure, it wasn’t <em>ground-breaking</em>, but Charles had spent a lot of late nights perfecting the choreography and stabilising his vocals. Even though X-Boys didn’t produce the music Charles made himself, he appreciated the work that went into it.</p><p>He wanted to show Erik that, yes, they made music targeted at teenagers attracted to pretty boys, but they were still valid. And that, maybe, Charles was more than a pretty boy and someone Erik could find attractive in a non-PG way.</p><p>At the mention of rehearsal, the younger members of X-Boys quickly dispersed to their positions, Hank fiddling with the music system. Charles found his own mark on the floor, glancing back at Erik as he crossed his hands behind his back in Sweet Love’s starting pose, breath catching in his throat when he noticed that Erik was staring back at him.</p><p><em>‘Good God, you better not mess up the choreo, Xavier,’ </em>Charles said to himself sternly, turning away from the hot German man who was definitely thinking about writing a scathing review of their work.</p><p>And who, Charles noticed, was kind of checking out his ass.</p><p>***</p><p>Charles’s ass was even better in person. That was the first thing Erik had thought when he entered the rehearsal room. He had honestly expected Charles’s looks to have been the product of stage make-up, carefully selected camera angles and <em>maybe </em>some sneaky CGI, but no. Charles had been bent into downward dog like it was as easy as breathing, and his plump ass had stretched out his ridiculously tight black compression pants.</p><p>Whoever dictated this man’s wardrobe today needed to be <em>fired</em>. Or get a raise. Erik hadn’t decided yet.</p><p>What he <em>had </em>decided, was that Charles Xavier’s ass looked <em>illegal</em> in those pants, the stretchy fabric clinging to the curves like they could barely hold it together. That ass was illegal and should be locked up, but also freed because <em>shit. </em>It was a criminally nice ass.</p><p>Though Charles had a deceivingly young and innocent face, his thighs and calves were strong and well-muscled, and the loose white tank-top Charles wore showed off his defined biceps and the slight rise of the veins on his forearms.</p><p>Erik’s cock may or may not have twitched a little in interest at the sight of Charles bending over, something Erik also decided that he would deny until he died.</p><p><em>‘It’s fine,’ </em>Erik thought to himself as Xavier sauntered over to him, a sway in his step that made Erik’s eyes not quite know where to look. <em>‘Once he opens his mouth, he’ll have a scratchy voice like a pre-pubescent teen, and probably spew absolute nonsense, and any attraction you have will die.’</em> Erik continued to assure himself this, but the moment Xavier opened his mouth, all thoughts just died.</p><p>But his attraction did not.</p><p>Erik had not expected Xavier to have a fucking <em>English accent</em>. Erik had done some more research after watching that one music video, but had avoided interviews because, somewhere deep down, Erik was afraid of this.</p><p><em>This</em> being <em>finding out Xavier had a fucking posh English accent that was more hot than repulsive</em>. No, Xavier’s voice was not repulsive in the slightest. It was smooth like rich butter, but with a slight edge that betrayed his age as being more than an immature 16-year-old who thought that every artistic choice he should ever make should be based on some wannabe ‘bad boy’ on TikTok.</p><p>No, Charles Xavier’s voice was comforting and sounded like it held the curve of a mischievous smile, like he <em>knew</em> that whenever someone met him, their minds turned to scrambled eggs that just kept repeating <em>‘crap, Charles Xavier is hot, his voice is hot, his ass is a work of art and maybe, maybe, I would subject myself to listening to horrible boy-band pop just to watch his face and his ass move across the screen in an artsy music video.</em></p><p>And Erik <em>knew </em>the look Charles had given him. He’d seen it plenty of times before, but usually from men in gay bars and not in a dance studio surrounded by barely-legal boys. It was a look Erik was accustomed to seeing on the faces of men gyrating against him in clubs to heavy bass tracks which weren’t too bad since you listened to them already half-sloshed in a club. It wasn’t a look Erik was supposed to find in a dance studio where Xavier, the undecided leader of a boy band, was swinging his hips to <em>‘your sweet love sustains me, girl, yeah, your sweet love sustains me’.</em></p><p>Erik had expected that once he met Charles Xavier in person, he would realise that the boy – <em>man</em> – was like all of the other cookie-cutter pop acts out there these days. He hadn’t expected to be trying to hide his hard-on in front of the boy-band and their manager because one appraising look from Xavier had made Erik imagine bending him across a ballet barre and fucking his plush ass as he made Xavier watch every one of Erik’s thrust in the dance mirror.</p><p>Erik only realised that the routine was over when Xavier’s ass stopped moving, and that he was approaching him once again, but now a little slick with sweat and panting slightly. Charles lifted a water bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, exposing the column of his pale neck. A little water dribbled out and slid down the man’s chin, sliding down his neck and skirting around his pronounced Adam’s apple, finally disappearing beneath his loose tank top down the cleft of his strong pecs.</p><p>Then, as if Xavier <em>knew </em>what he was doing to Erik, the man lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, revealing a stomach that wasn’t cut deeply with muscle, but was toned yet a little soft-looking.</p><p>Erik wanted to <em>lick </em>the faint indentations of Charles Xavier’s abs. Among other things.</p><p>Erik’s mind was littered with a series of expletives in both English and German, Charles Xavier walking over to him with an easy, charming smile and a sparkle in his blue eyes.</p><p>“Did you enjoy the performance?” Xavier asked in that disarming English accent, and Erik’s head was forced to nod up and down stiffly, trying to will away the erection building in his jeans.</p><p>“Okay! Great! How about you guys run through the choreo for <em>Love Me, Hate Me</em>, and then go and freshen up for your prelim interviews,” Moira said, clapping her hands. The boys agreed, Charles just giving Moira a look, which she returned with a roll of her eyes, Erik looking at the two and the silent conversation they seemed to be having with narrowed eyes.</p><p>Erik felt annoyed for some reason, and it was definitely <em>not </em>because Charles Xavier gave Moira an odd smile that seemed strangely intimate.</p><p>No, definitely not.</p><p>***</p><p>“Oh, <em>please</em>, Charles. I <em>saw </em>you,” Moira said, gesturing to the bright red closed door across the large foyer of Hellfire Records. Behind it, Erik was conducting interviews with Sean and Darwin, while Alex and Hank had gone to grab some lunch. It had been organised so that the interviews were staggered after holding one whole group interview, which had gone smoothly enough.</p><p>It mainly consisted of the boys answering basic questions like ‘what is the style of the new album’ and ‘what is the meaning of the title track’. The questions had been pretty generic, but that was standard for a preliminary introductory interview.</p><p>Charles, and the rest of the boys too, had picked up the general vibe coming from Lehnsherr through it all, though. The man couldn’t make it any more obvious that he was not a fan of them nor their music. Hank had kept his eyes trained at his feet the entire interview, while Darwin had adapted, remaining his usual calm and unflappable self. Sean had kept raising his eye brows every time Erik would roll his eyes at one of their basic answers, before giving Moira looks as if saying ‘this guy is a <em>dick</em>’. Alex, on the other hand, looked pissed and glared at Lehnsherr, who just blinked back at him, unaffected and unamused.</p><p>Charles, though, had answered the man’s questions eloquently, never dropping the slight curve to his mouth, even when Erik would say something about ‘how the album sounds a lot like the last one’ and that ‘the writer of Sweet Love also wrote songs for One Direction, what do you have to say about that?’. In fact, Charles’s grin would widen a little every time Erik’s eyes turned to him with a challenging look, Charles just responding with measured and, admittedly, well-formed answers.</p><p>Somehow, Charles had made a song with lyrics like <em>‘your sweet love sustains me, girl’ </em>sound like a love poem by John Donne, and Erik, for a split, <em>split </em>second, may have been persuaded that the meaning of <em>Sweet Love</em> was deeper than a guy being horny for a girl <em>‘sweeter than melted chocolate and lemon drop candy’. </em></p><p>After the group interview, Hank and Alex had been interviewed separately, and that had gone as well as everyone imagined (i.e. Alex ended up cussing at Lehnsherr and storming out, while Hank was busy apologising and bowing as he trailed off after the hot-headed band member). There was currently no screaming happening with Darwin and Sean’s interview, though, which Moira was thankful for.</p><p>Even though Alex had dropped the F-bomb in a <em>recorded </em>interview, Moira was more concerned about Charles. Not that he’d have a meltdown and engage in a screaming match with Lehnsherr like Alex had, but that he would push the journalist up against a wall and climb him like a tree.</p><p>“Saw what, Moira?” Charles asked, though he couldn’t help the twitch in his red lips, Moira rolling her eyes.</p><p>“I <em>saw</em> the way you were literally asking Lehnsherr to push you against a wall and bang you with your eyes,” Moira said flatly, Charles snorting.</p><p>“Please, Moira. Can you blame me? He’s <em>hot</em>. Exponentially hot,” Charles said, Moira groaning.</p><p>“Yes, you made that clear when you were mentally undressing him in the studio. Charles, I’ve heard enough college stories from you to know that you’ve got a track record miles long, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that <em>if you weren’t an incredibly famous, recognisable public figure whose fan demographic has an average age of 15.”</em></p><p>“15-year-olds have sex, Moira. It’s not a foreign concept to them,” Charles said, Moira internally groaning in frustration.</p><p>“Yes, but Charles, you have a reputation and an image to uphold,” Moira said.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, I’m aware,” Charles said, scrunching up his nose. “Virginal and upbeat, basically overtly gay but ‘oh-so-straight’. A twink that can flirt with girls and be happily invited to your grandmother’s Tupperware party.”</p><p>Moira shot Charles a look, the 24-year-old levelling one back at her with equal force.</p><p>“Moira, I get that you’re just doing your job and looking out for me. Or, at least, looking out for the image Shaw has curated for me, but I’m a bloody <em>24-year-old </em>paid to appeal to underage girls. That’s way more messed up than me being interested in a man <em>that’s actually legal</em>. And insanely hot.”</p><p>“You… You have a point,” Moira said, Charles grinning. “<em>But!</em> Charles, your image right now is clean and scandal-free. Imagine what the paps and the public would do if they catch you with your tongue stuffed down the throat of someone like Lehnsherr. They’d never leave you alone, and in the end, we both know that you’re a regular guy. You’re not the caricature of a person Shaw paints you to be. You said it yourself once, remember?”</p><p>“I’m just a guy who likes writing songs about ramen and singing into my loofah,” Charles said, Moira smiling a little now, nodding warmly.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re that, and a regular 24-year-old guy. But, at least partially, you’re also a public figure. So just… be careful, okay? I’m not telling you not to go for it – as in Lehnsherr, because yeah, I’m not blind – but… be careful about it. I care about you, and I don’t want you to turn into one of <em>those </em>stars with major issues,” Moira said, Charles nodding, smiling at his friend.</p><p>“I know. Thanks for caring about more than just my image, Moira,” Charles said, kissing the woman’s cheek as the interviewing door opened, revealing Erik. Strangely, Darwin and Sean were still in the room, and when Charles craned his head to peek in, they were staring at each other like they had just seen their lives flash before their eyes.</p><p>Erik must have grilled them until they turned to stiff charcoal.</p><p>Erik’s eyes narrowed when he saw Charles standing by Moira, who just gave Charles one last look before heading into the interview room to check on the catatonic Sean and Darwin. She nodded at Erik when she passed him, but the man ignored her and made his way straight to Charles like a man on a mission.</p><p>And on a mission he was.</p><p>***</p><p>The other four band members that weren’t Charles Xavier weren’t <em>terrible</em>. They each had some semblance of a personality, even if it had taken Erik basically verbally abusing them to get them to break the boy-band façade.</p><p>In the end, though, Erik thought of them all as appetisers, just obstacles to get over before reaching the main course.</p><p>Charles Xavier.</p><p>In one look, Erik <em>knew </em>that there was more to him than the plastered pop smile and carefully styled hair. It wasn’t only that he was, to Erik, the most attractive one out of all of them (or, maybe the most attractive man Erik had ever seen, period), but he was… intriguing.</p><p>Erik didn’t put up any pretences. He had been rude during the group interview, and he knew Charles had picked up on his less-than-subtle jibes. Charles’s reactions could have gone one of two ways, Erik had imagined. On one hand, he could have crumbled to pieces with the slightest piece of criticism, one of those thin-skinned celebrities that cowered before the public. Opposingly, he could have been the type of celebrity whose head was too far up his ass to think that he was anything less than godly, the celebrity of all celebrities, and that any criticism Erik had was just because he was jealous of his fame and fortune.</p><p>But Charles Xavier had been neither of those. He had been something else entirely.</p><p>Charles had listened to Erik’s questions carefully, humming and nodding as he asked them. His devilishly red mouth even smiling at them, insults and all, like he <em>enjoyed </em>it. Erik had made a mental note that an eye-catching but not clickbaity title would be <em>‘Charles Xavier is a masochist who like being insulted (and not only in bed)’</em>.</p><p>Charles had answered all of Erik’s questions thoughtfully, like he actually thought about the answer for himself and didn’t just read off a pre-planned ‘Pop Q&amp;A Guide’ like the other members had. Charles defended his work, highlighting the nuances in the differences between genres featured in this album and their last, talking about how their choreography was difficult this time around because of how it drew upon European ballroom dancing styles mixed with hip-hop – which Charles had endearingly and self-deprecatingly said he was rubbish at – before going on to talk about how one of the last tracks was inspired heavily by Bossa Nova. He even drifted into an in-depth music analysis on the topic, one that Erik had unwittingly been drawn into, almost in a daze.</p><p>Erik did notice that Charles never explicitly said that their music was <em>good</em>. He just commented that some of the stylistic choices had been ‘interesting’ or ‘different’, but he hadn’t been like other artists who just said that their music was the best thing to ever happen to the industry since the dawn of time.</p><p>Erik even thought that, in the slightly amused quirk of Charles’s mouth, that he agreed with some of Erik’s thoughts on their music. Charles, maybe, also thought that <em>Sweet Love</em> was a slew of recycled notes strung together, but he balanced out that thought by saying that the choreography was challenging and a wonderful mixture of styles. Charles hadn’t quite sold out to the industry, but he was definitely a little complacent.</p><p>Erik was glad that Charles hadn’t been roped into one of the other duos he interviewed, somehow being scheduled to talk to Erik alone.</p><p>“Erik! How have the interviews been going?” Charles asked, a little bounce in his step. Erik noticed that he had changed clothes since the group interview (in which everyone had still worn their dance clothes), and was now wearing a pair of neat light-wash denim jeans, a white T-shirt and… a frumpy, baby-blue cardigan that, though horribly out-of-fashion, matched his eyes and made Erik’s arms itch to crumple the shorter man into his arms.</p><p>Erik ignored that thought.</p><p>“They’ve been alright,” Erik said, shrugging. Charles just raised a brow, silently calling Erik out on his lie, the man smirking. “Well, they’ve been pretty boring. But I’ve sat through worse.”</p><p>“Ah, are you talking about your piece on Warren Worthington?” Charles asked, chuckling a little. Erik blinked, surprised.</p><p>“You read that?” Erik asked, Charles nodding, a small smile playing on his lips.</p><p>“I wasn’t lying when I said I was a fan of your work, Erik,” Charles said, touching Erik’s arm, the touch seemingly friendly on first glance, but lingering a little too long, heat a little too warm. Erik melted into it. “Did he really say that he was the new Elton John? Because if he did, you calling him a ‘self-obsessed and delusional twat’ was much deserved.”</p><p>Erik choked on a laugh at Charles’s cheeky expression, not expecting something like that to come out of his mouth.</p><p>“I can confirm that he really did say that. I was going to add a few more choice words in there, but my boss, Emma, didn’t want him to sue the Brotherhood for defamation,” Erik said, Charles letting out a loud, genuine laugh that made his eyes crinkle in the corners.</p><p>“Would it still be defamation if it’s all true, though?” Charles replied, Erik chuckling now.</p><p>“Emma didn’t want to risk it, and contrary to popular belief, I actually do like my job,” Erik said, Charles’s eyes softening then.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> obvious that you like your work, though. You wouldn’t be able to write articles with that much passion if you didn’t love music,” Charles said, Erik speechless for a moment. He regarded Charles carefully, and it was like he was seeing him for the first time.</p><p><em>‘Is this the Xavier charm all of those teenagers and menopausal women keep going on about?’ </em>Erik asked himself, a little pained. Erik was <em>not </em>going to be one of those people, even if he thought that Charles was very, <em>very </em>attractive even in that atrocious cardigan, and that his mind was more interesting than the last 100 musicians Erik has interviewed combined.</p><p>“Yeah,” was all Erik said to that, but Charles didn’t seem to mind. “Anyway, your interview?”</p><p>“Oh! Of course,” Charles said, Erik beginning to turn back to the interview room, but was stopped when Charles reached out to grab his wrist. <em>G'tt</em>, his grip is actually pretty strong for such a tiny person. I’m sure he’d grip my cock firmly if he-</p><p>
  <em>Verdammt. </em>
</p><p>“It’s already 1:15, and I haven’t eaten since 6am. I’m absolutely famished,” Charles said, eyes impossibly wide, almost pleading. <em>‘Stay strong, Erik. G'tt.’ </em>“How about you conduct your interview over lunch? It’ll be on me. I know a great café just down the road from here, it’s usually less busy by half past 1.” Erik opened his mouth to protest, but Charles barrelled on, like he <em>knew</em> what he had to say to change Erik’s mind. “They have really good coffee, beans from Jamaica, apparently.”</p><p>Coffee. Charles just <em>had </em>to play the good coffee card.</p><p>“I’m Jewish,” Erik suddenly said, Charles blinking. “The café has kosher options, right?”</p><p>“Oh! I’m actually not sure,” Charles said, brow creasing, looking genuinely concerned. Erik’s heart may have squeezed, just a little.</p><p>“No, I… I’m not strict about keeping kosher, but I do try to adhere to it as much as I can,” Erik said quickly, suddenly wanting to smooth out the crinkles between Charles’s brows. “As long as there are non-pork options, it should be fine.”</p><p>“I can definitely say yes to that, my friend,” Charles said, and Erik really should have been more put off at Charles’s casual term – because what 24-year-old actually calls someone ‘my friend’ – but he wasn’t. He really wasn’t. “They have an amazing steak sandwich. The vegetable pancake with salsa is also great, and it’s meat-free so that should definitely be fine.”</p><p>“Let’s go then,” Erik said, Charles beaming at him. Charles stopped by what looked like his locker before they left, pulling out a cap and some sunglasses. On the door of the locker, Erik noticed that Charles had stuck some pictures of him from what looked like college – <em>Oxford</em>, even. Erik did a minute double-take. No, that was definitely an Oxford shirt Charles was wearing as he… chugged the biggest vessel of beer Erik had seen in his life, and he was <em>German</em>.</p><p>Another picture was of Charles cross-dressing at what looked like another college party alongside a pretty blonde girl, and another picture was of him and the same girl, but when they looked quite a bit younger (and Charles already looked young to begin with).</p><p>These were versions of Charles that had never appeared in TMZ articles or fan pages.</p><p>And Erik decided that he liked them. He liked them quite a bit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Charles and Erik entered the café, it was relatively quiet. Still, Charles kept his head down, not wanting to be recognised, because then he’d have to do the ‘yes, I can sign whatever you want’, ‘yes, I’ll take a selfie with you’, ‘oh, you’re too sweet, darling’ schtick. He didn’t mind it most of the time, since it was flattering when fans recognised him, but frankly he wanted to just spend time getting to know Erik. Erik, who had been noticeably less prickly since their brief conversation in the Hellfire foyer.</p><p>Charles caught the eye of the barista, a bubbly girl named Kitty that always served Charles with a friendly smile like he was any other patron. Kitty silently pointed to one of the back tables that was partially hidden by a partition, the most secluded table in the café. Charles beamed back at her, mouthing ‘thanks’, before nudging Erik’s arm to the table.</p><p>The two men sat down, Charles taking off his cap and sunglasses, Kitty soon walking over to them with menus.</p><p>“Hey, Charles,” Kitty said happily.</p><p>“Hello, Kitty. Busy day?” Charles replied gently, the girl nodding, letting out a huff.</p><p>“Yeah, the lunch rush was pretty bad today,” Kitty said, scrunching up her nose.</p><p>“Your boss still hasn’t hired someone else? Jubilee’s mum made her quit because her grades have slipped, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, you remembered,” Kitty said, smiling a little. “But to answer your question, <em>no</em>, we’re still understaffed. It’s a nightmare.”</p><p>“I can imagine,” Charles said, sounding like he really understood. Kitty just shrugged, mentioning that it was part of the job, before turning to Erik. “Oh! Right. Kitty, this is Erik Lehnsherr. He’s a music journalist doing a piece on X-Boys. Erik, this is Kitty, the best barista in the city.”</p><p>“Introducing me like that isn’t going to make me slip you a free piece of cake, Charles,” Kitty said, Charles humming like he didn’t believe her, making the girl and Erik laugh. Erik shook Kitty’s hand, the girl nodding chirpily, quickly running through the specials of the day, before ducking off to wait on another table that called her over.</p><p>“You must come here a lot,” Erik said conversationally, Charles nodding as he barely skimmed the menu, already knowing what he was going to get.</p><p>“I actually used to come here often before joining X-Boys,” Charles said, tapping on Erik’s menu where it said ‘black forest cake’. “Best cake in the city, alongside the best coffee.”</p><p>“I’m not surprised that you have a sweet tooth,” Erik said, Charles grinning.</p><p>“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say something cheesy like ‘<em>you don’t need cake, you’re sweet enough already’?” </em>Charles asked, putting on the voice of a sappy, melodramatic soapie star. Erik snorted, putting down his menu after deciding to trust Charles’s earlier recommendation about the steak sandwich.</p><p>“Has that line ever worked for you before, Charles?” Erik teased, the singer wiggling a brow.</p><p>“You’d be surprised, Erik. I have ways of getting what I want.”</p><p>Erik let out a ‘hmph’, but it was by no means bitter. In fact, Erik had a slight smile on his face, small but present nonetheless. On someone who seemed like they were born with a frown, even a slight quirk of a lip was big thing.</p><p>“I’m sure you do,” Erik then said quietly, staring at Charles. Charles was drawn in to Erik’s eyes, and he found himself falling forwards into the journalist’s orbit without knowing. Charles’s tongue flickered out to wet his lips, and Erik’s gaze dropped there, before he smirked and sat back in his chair, away from Charles.</p><p>It was Charles’s turn to let out a short ‘hmph’, making Erik chuckle at the pout now present on the singer’s lips. Oh, Erik was <em>flirting</em>, alright. Teasingly, maybe, but Charles could read the signs.</p><p>Charles was just about to bite the bullet and ask Erik if he wanted to go out for a drink later, or maybe dinner, or maybe just skip both and head back to Charles’s opulent high-rise apartment and eat him out in bed instead, but Kitty had wandered back to them asking if they were ready to order. Charles had to restrain from banging his head on the table in frustration, but that would have probably scared Kitty and he genuinely liked the younger girl, and she didn’t know that her A+ service had inadvertently cock-blocked Charles.</p><p>Erik maybe knew, though, considering he now had a wide and smug grin etched onto his face, showing all too many teeth but making Charles’s heart stutter. He looked intimidating, but in a way that only turned Charles on more.</p><p>Charles ignored the heat pooling in his gut as he ordered the mushroom risotto and a vanilla and caramel macchiato (which Erik snorted at), the journalist ordering the steak sandwich and a coffee, black, no sugar. Of course.</p><p>Their drinks came quickly, and Charles made sure to remind Erik and Kitty that they had been made by the best barista in the city when she served them, the girl rolling her eyes but whispering ‘do you want red velvet, black forest or lemon vanilla today?’. Erik had laughed when Charles’s eyes lit up like lights at Christmas, immediately saying ‘black forest’. Kitty laughed, nodding, before heading back to the display case of cakes and saving them a piece.</p><p>“You really have everyone wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” Erik said, Charles raising a brow, adding a sugar into his already sickly-sweet coffee, making Erik grimace a little.</p><p>“Has the interview started?” Charles asked, Erik shrugging.</p><p>“I’m not recording it right now, so it’s up to you,” the journalist said, Charles smiling. “Depends how honest you want to be.”</p><p>“Hm. Then, how about just a conversation between friends, to start with. As long as you promise not to treat me like Worthington,” Charles tacked on at the end, Erik letting out a loud laugh.</p><p>“No promises, Charles. If you start comparing yourself to Elton John or Queen, then…”</p><p>“I was thinking more along the lines of Prince,” Charles said, Erik feigning an appalled expression, only tempered by the way he was struggling to control his smile.</p><p>“You’re worse than Worthington. Interview over, I don’t even care if you sue me, I have to expose the real you to the world, Charles,” Erik said, Charles letting out a faux gasp.</p><p>“<em>No!</em> But my career, Erik! You can’t taint my career like that, what would I do? I don’t want to have to go back to bartending at a shitty bar down town, flirting with men for tips,” Charles whined, Erik raising a brow. Charles laughed at Erik’s curious expression, winking. “But yes, I was tipped generously, if you were wondering. <em>Very </em>generously.”</p><p>“Like I said, you have everyone wrapped around your finger,” Erik said, Charles taking a sip of his whipped-cream-laden drink. A little cream lingered on his lips, and he swiped it with his tongue slowly, locking onto Erik’s eyes as he did so. Erik swallowed thickly, licking his own lips in response, a reflex.</p><p>“Everyone, you say. Does that include you, Mr Lehnsherr?” Charles asked impishly. Charles smirked, but his expression was broken when he felt Erik’s foot nudge at his ankle. Charles jumped in surprise, Erik smirking at the reaction.</p><p>“No, I’m not interested in Charles Xavier of X-Boys,” Erik said slowly, foot slipping under the cuff of Charles’s jeans, nudging at his bare ankle. Charles’s breath hitched as Erik leaned forward, elegant fingers sliding around the rim of his coffee cup. “But the <em>real </em>Charles Xavier?”</p><p>“What about him?” Charles asked, corners of his red lips curving upwards.</p><p>“Yeah,” Erik said, just as Kitty came with their meals. “Yeah, I’m interested.”</p><p>***</p><p>Erik had scrapped the interview questions he had prepared for Charles. Reading them off like a shopping list when the conversation between them just flowed so naturally seemed wrong. Sitting in the obscured corner table was not a boy-band member and a journalist, but a flirty 24-year-old that was also an incredibly intelligent Oxford graduate, and a slightly misanthropic music snob with a surprising passion for cooking.  </p><p>Charles and Erik talked about lots of things, moving back and forth between one topic to another smoothly, never stuck in a bout of awkward silence. Erik found out that Charles held a degree in genetics, which surprised him immensely, especially when Charles talked about the topic with such vigour and excitement. Charles told Erik that he would have liked to pursue a PhD in the topic if he hadn’t dived into a career in music, and Erik had teasingly quipped that with his cardigans, he was already half way there to being a professor.</p><p>Erik also learnt that it hadn’t been Charles’s intention to join X Factor, but that his sister had secretly signed him up, partially as a joke but also because she was sick of hearing his solo shower concerts through the door. In return, Erik talked about how he was born and raised in Germany, but had come to the US because of the music. He also talked about how he liked cooking and baking, and Charles was less-than-subtle about wanting to try it sometime. Erik had, surprisingly, said ‘yeah, some time’, making Charles beam that bright, megawatt smile that lit up his eyes.</p><p>Talking to Charles properly made Erik truly realise that the slightly younger man was shockingly intelligent. He went to Oxford and graduate top of his genetics class, and despite the terrible lyrics in X-Boys’s songs, he could recite poems by John Donne and passages from Jane Eyre even more easily than the lyrics from his last album.</p><p>If Erik had been attracted to Charles’s appearance before, knowing that his mind was equally as attractive – or even more so – just sealed the deal for Erik.</p><p>It had only been a matter of hours, but Erik liked Charles Xavier, at least on a primal, basic level. If Charles Xavier had been in a bar, Erik would have definitely bought him a drink, and in less than a matter of hours, he would have him writhing beneath him in bed.</p><p>But, even though they talked, flirted and teased each other over food and coffee like they had known the other for years, Charles was still a celebrity, and Erik was still a journalist supposed to be interviewing him. It wasn’t professional, or prudent, but it was <em>tantalising. </em></p><p>Charles was tantalising.</p><p>Erik didn’t give a fuck about X-Boys – his stance on them hadn’t changed (because <em>Sweet Love </em>was a disgrace to all music). But Charles. Charles was so much more, and <em>G’tt</em>, Erik wanted him. It was obvious that Charles felt the same way about him, too.</p><p>It was when they were sharing the single slice of black forest cake Kitty had slipped them under the table that Charles asked Erik if he wanted to meet up at his apartment later. Erik said yes immediately, and earned him another endearingly honest, joyous smile from the singer.</p><p>“Fantastic, my friend,” Charles said, unlocking his phone and sliding it across the table to Erik, letting him insert his number. Erik slid the phone back, fingers brushing Charles’s as he took it from the other man, before calling Erik. Erik’s ringtone, his mother’s favourite Elton John song, buzzed from his pocket before Charles hung up.</p><p>“Good song,” Charles said, though he gave Erik a joking look. “<em>Sweet Love</em> would be a much better ringtone, though.”</p><p>“Is it yours?” Erik asked, Charles jerking his head to where Erik’s phone now sat on the table.</p><p>“See for yourself.”</p><p>Erik, curious, rang Charles, and was surprised when, out of all the songs it could be, Starship’s <em>Nothing Gonna Stop Us Now</em> started playing.</p><p>“Are you serious?” Erik asked, just before he fell into hysterics as Charles began singing to the 80s classic, looking far too engrossed in the song, even as he adopted a more feminine tone for Grace Slick’s female parts. He continued singing for a few bars after the call had cut off, and Erik noted that his voice was quite lovely, even if he was only playing around.</p><p>“It’s a great song,” Charles defended, Erik unable to hold back the cheek-splitting grin he had on his face, his cheeks hurting with how much he had smiled in the span of the past hour. “It’s my go-to karaoke jam.”</p><p>“I thought you said that was Celine Dion,” Erik said, Charles shaking his head.</p><p>“No, she’s my <em>shower </em>jam,” Charles clarified, Erik humming, as if everything Charles said made complete sense. The two men looked at each other, before dissolving into amused snickers, Kitty coming over with a confused look on her face to hand them the check.</p><p>“… You two okay?” Kitty asked, a little apprehensive when Charles wheezed, Erik snorting loudly at the inelegant but adorable noise.</p><p>“Peachy,” Charles said through a hiccup, laughing again when he caught Erik’s grin. “Thanks for the meal, Kitty. Tell the chefs that it was great, once again.”</p><p>“Will do,” Kitty said, still giving Erik and Charles an odd look and sorting out the bill. Charles tipped generously, as always, and before they left he slid is sunglasses and cap back on.</p><p>“I have to get back to Hellfire,” Charles lamented as he and Erik stepped out of the café. “Moira’s making us sign some of the merch Shaw wants to sell on tour. It’s a ridiculous price mark-up, if you ask me – I could be signing something silly like “Xtreme Cockerspaniel” and they’d just think it was me being pretentious and signing things “Xavier Charles” like I was Bond, James Bond or something.”</p><p>“What a tough life you live, Charles,” Erik said, the singer huffing. “I’ve got to get back to the office anyway to transcribe some of my recordings.”</p><p>“Remember to only write flattering things about me,” Charles said, leaning in a little, like he was whispering a secret. And in a way, Erik supposed he was. “I’ll see you at mine later? For a drink and… well.”</p><p>“Mm. Later,” Erik echoed, Charles smiling.</p><p>“Later.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Erik got back to the office, he did not transcribe his recordings. No, instead he locked himself in his room, got out his headphones, and began searching up everything he could on Charles Xavier.</p><p>Yes, it was mildly creepy, but Charles was technically a public figure, even if he didn’t <em>feel </em>like one to Erik, not any more. And, since Erik knew the man personally, he wasn’t like all of those 14-year-old fan girls erecting shrines with Charles’s face cut out and stuck onto voodoo dolls and professing their love for him on Tumblr.</p><p>That was <em>not </em>Erik, even if he was currently searching up Charles Xavier on YouTube and opening each video result in a new tab, testing the limits of Google Chrome’s processing abilities.</p><p>Most of the videos were poorly cut and edited fan-videos that were really just a conglomeration of clips taken from various official X-Boys videos. Still, Erik watched them, in awe at how Charles’s face was so fucking <em>cute</em>, and yet could look at Erik <em>in public</em> with nothing but sex in his eyes. How other people never noticed that Charles was dirty as hell was beyond Erik.</p><p>Erik scrolled through the comments, cringing at the excessive use of “OMG” and “MY HUSBANDDDD”, but agreeing with the comments that yes, Charles was ridiculously adorable yet hot at the same time, and yes, his eyes are ridiculously blue (and even bluer in person, if that was even possible). And <em>yes</em>, Charles did have an amazing voice, especially for someone whose vocals were drowned out by 4 other voices in a sea of electronic beeping and thinly disguised autotune.</p><p>Erik had only heard Charles sing a little when he had begun jamming to his own ringtone. Charles hadn’t been serious at all, but Erik recognised that he could actually sing, and that he had range, climbing up to high notes with ease. Why Shaw forced him to stay within a single octave range almost enraged Erik, who stewed with the thought ‘<em>why isn’t Charles given a chance to really shine?’</em></p><p><em>G’tt, </em>Erik was starting to sound like a 14-year-old k-pop fangirl complaining that her bias (or her ‘Oppa’, whatever that meant) didn’t get enough lines to show off his talent.</p><p>Erik was curious to see what Charles’s voice sounded like, stripped back and singing songs that weren’t just ‘<em>your sweet love sustains me, girl’</em>. Erik eventually, after replaying a video titled “Charles Xavier being ridiculously cute for 8 minutes straight” (which made Erik snort because Charles was the furthest thing from straight he could possibly get), Erik found himself on a simple black-and-white casted video of Charles sitting by an upright piano. He wore a crisp white shirt and black slacks, looking much more mature in the simply ensemble than the colourful costumes he wore in other videos.</p><p>
  <em>[Charles Xavier Original Song – Paralysed – Live Version]</em>
</p><p>“Original song?” Erik read aloud, wondering if Charles wrote the song himself, or if by ‘original song’ they just meant ‘not a cover, just a song written by someone else, like all of X-Boys’s discography’. Consulting the comments, Erik found out through Charles’s die-hard (and stalkerish) fans that this was a live recording of Charles’s X Factor audition song, which he said he wrote himself, lyrics and everything.</p><p>When the song started, Erik watched in anticipation, Charles’s fingers gliding across the piano keys like they were a part of him, a gentle yet melancholy melody sifting through Erik’s headphones. It was pretty, and nothing like X-Boys’ boisterous music. Soft and gentle, but simmering with light and unexpected power.</p><p>Much like Charles, with his soft cardigans which hid the flame of passion and mischief deep down in his soul.</p><p>Erik was already enraptured the moment that Charles’s started playing the piano, but the moment he began to sing, Erik’s mouth dropped open.</p><p>Erik suddenly felt like he was breathing too loudly, so he stopped altogether, wanting nothing more than to hear Charles and only Charles. His voice was… transcendent, soft but unyielding, the hint of a tremor underlying his rich timbre. This was no <em>‘Sweet Love’, ‘Love Me, Hate Me’ </em>or<em> ‘Strawberry Crush’</em>. No, this was a song that was written from the <em>heart</em>, and Charles laid it all bare in his melody and his lyrics.</p><p>
  <em>‘I can’t run away from you, even if I tried<br/>
My legs of lead, wading through tar while you push me down<br/>
Down so far I can’t get up, can’t see the surface<br/>
You control me, fear encages me<br/>
Begging, but no one hears me<br/>
Crying, but no one cares<br/>
And God, I want to push you away<br/>
The you who hurt me<br/>
But I’m paralysed<br/>
Oh, I’m paralysed’</em>
</p><p>The video finished playing, the light spinning around the ‘replay’ icon, but Erik was frozen. <em>Paralysed</em>.</p><p>Erik didn’t even realise he had tears in his eyes until Emma walked into his office, breaking her usual Ice Queen demeanour when she gasped out “Good God, sugar. What the fuck happened to you? Who died?”</p><p>Erik couldn’t answer, and Emma quickly sashayed her way around Erik’s desk, placing a hand on the back of his chair and leaning down to squint at his screen. Her painted mouth moved silently as she read the video title, as well as the million and one open tabs of Charles Xavier videos on his webpage, turning to Erik with a sharp snap of her blonde hair.</p><p>“Jesus, you come back from interviewing the group <em>once</em> and you’re a vapid fanboy now? You, <em>Erik Lehnsherr</em>, who made Warren Worthington cry with your review of his single ‘Angels Never Cry’ and then cackled in his lawyer’s face when he threatened to sue us?” Emma looked at Erik like he had been possessed by the spirit of a 14-year-old fan girl, waving her manicured hand in front of his face.</p><p>“Emma,” Erik said, voice thick as he turned to her, taking off his headphones. “Have you <em>heard </em>Charles Xavier sing? Have you heard this song that he wrote himself when he was apparently 14 and going through a really hard time? So hard that he felt paralysed, like his legs were lead, wading through tar? <em>Emma</em>.”</p><p>“Oh my God, there is something wrong with you,” Emma said, snatching the headphones away from Erik and pressing one side to her right ear. Erik frowned at her, grabbing them and forcing them on her head properly, because it was <em>rude </em>to Charles to listen to him with just one ear. No, you needed to listen to Charles – to <em>love </em>Charles – with your entire <em>soul</em>, and that still wouldn’t be enough.</p><p>“Listen,” Erik ordered his boss before pressing the replay button, who just rolled her eyes, not expecting much at all – just like Erik had, before he met Charles Xavier.</p><p>Had that been just this morning?</p><p>Yes, but you could fall in love with a song and an artist in the span of a song, in the length of a chorus, in the breath of a note.</p><p>One morning was plenty of time to fall in love with Charles Xavier.</p><p>Erik didn’t know whether he wanted to stare at Charles’s tormented face on the screen or at Emma to gauge her reaction, just switching between the two. He saw Emma’s eyes twitch a little in surprise as the song started, her mouth then dropping open as Charles hit the chorus for the first time, her head tilting in curiosity when he reached the final verse, voice tapering off into a weighty silence.</p><p>When the song ended, Emma slowly peeled the headphones off, turning to Erik with a serious expression.</p><p>“What the fuck is he doing in X-Boys with talent like that?” Emma asked seriously, Erik nodding vigorously.</p><p>“I <em>know</em>. Emma, I want to write a piece on him. Just on him,” Erik said, Emma’s eyebrows rising up to her hairline.</p><p>“<em>You </em>want to write a piece about <em>Charles Xavier</em> of X-Boys?”</p><p>“<em>Just </em>Charles Xavier,” Erik said, dropping X-Boys completely. “You heard him, Emma. He’s… <em>mein G’tt</em>.” <em>I love him</em>. “His <em>music</em>.” <em>Him.</em></p><p>Erik left it there, hoping that was enough for Emma to understand.</p><p>“I mean, yeah, his music is amazing, and his voice as well, but Erik – I’m not going to let you drop the X-Boys article. We need that, and if you’re going to drop them to write a solo piece on an artist <em>who isn’t even a soloist</em>, you’re going to anger a lot of fans,” Emma said, Erik rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t give a flying fuck about those fans, not when they’ve been sleeping on Charles’s talent,” Erik said, vehement. “Anyone who… <em>cages </em>Charles in a group like X-Boys deserves death. Right now, it’s not fear that <em>encages</em> Charles. It’s your ex Shaw and his stupid company, as well as the stupid little fangirls who keep saying that they… what, <em>ship </em>Charles and that Summers kid together. Anyone who genuinely thinks that they belong together can’t be trusted.”</p><p>Emma stared at Erik, frowning now and looking terribly tempted to call for an ambulance, because Erik was either high on drugs, drunk out of his mind, or suffering some kind of stroke. Then, it dawned on Emma that Erik…</p><p>“Do you have a <em>crush</em> on Charles Xavier?” Emma asked, almost appalled that she even said the question out loud. When Erik didn’t answer and just glared at her, Emma clapped her hands together, doubling over in peals of chime-like laughter. “Oh, sugar. This is… Oh, <em>oh</em>, this is priceless! I have to tell Angel, I have to tell <em>everyone</em>. Erik, if that’s the case, go right ahead and write a piece on your boy crush. But, I’m still expecting one on X-Boys as a whole too. You’re capable of working two large projects at once, no?”</p><p>“Charles isn’t a <em>project</em> – he’s an artist and a visionary, and someone that’s <em>really </em>cute in cardigans and-”</p><p>“Oh, gosh. Hold that thought, sugar, I can’t take any more laughter for today. I’m going to develop laugh lines,” Emma said, sucking in a breath as she tried to gather her wits again, morphing back into the Ice Queen the office was so fearful of. “Charles Xavier, he’s really a force to be reckoned with.”</p><p>“He invited me to his apartment tonight,” Erik said quickly, Emma blinking.</p><p>“Oh my <em>God</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Erik said, nodding. “I know.”</p><p>“Why <em>you</em>?” Emma said, Erik flipping her off. “I mean, I adore you, sugar, I really do, but <em>how? </em>You’re…” Emma just gestured up and down at Erik, like that was all that needed to be said. <em>Grumpy. Taciturn. Rude. Judgemental. An A-grade asshole. </em>Sounded about right.</p><p>“Yeah, well, he did, so can you let me off early today?” Erik said, Emma nodding, sitting on the edge of Erik’s desk as he stood, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his chair.</p><p>“Charles Xavier’s music is one thing, but Charles Xavier himself is… interesting,” Emma said as she watched Erik grin widely.</p><p>“Emma, you have <em>no idea.</em>”</p><p>***</p><p><em>“You met a guy?!” </em>Raven screeched through the phone, Charles wincing. Plucking his mobile from where he had it wedged between his ear and cardigan-clad shoulder, Charles switched it to the same position on other side before returning to where he was tidying up his apartment.</p><p>Charles had never been the neatest person in the world, putting it down to being an artist that needed to work in organised disarray, as he put it. Controlled chaos, restrained passion, what have you. At some point, between gruelling dance practises and X-Pression promotions, that organised disarray had turned into a nuclear warzone, and Charles had spent the rest of his afternoon after finishing work at Hellfire Records to clean his apartment in preparation for Erik’s arrival.</p><p>Charles was busy putting books back into his over-stacked bookshelf as he chatted to his sister.</p><p>“Yes, Raven. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I met someone, you know I’m not exactly <em>picky</em>. You visited me at Oxford for a <em>week</em> and met, I don’t know, more than 7 guys I’d hooked up with,” Charles said, Raven groaning at the memory.</p><p><em>“Yes, but that was before you became a prominent fixture in every hormone-driven teen’s wank bank,” </em>Raven said, Charles rolling his eyes. <em>“How? When? Where? Who?”</em></p><p>“Journalist covering the X-Boys tour, this morning, at the dance studio, and Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles replied quickly, and Charles heard Raven’s rapid typing even through the phone.</p><p><em>“How do you spell ‘Lehnsherr’? I’m not getting anything that screams ‘Charles’s type’,”</em> Raven said.</p><p>“Raven. He’s the guy that made your childhood crush cry,” Charles said, the younger girl silent on the other line.</p><p>
  <em>“Azazel? The guy you’re talking about is the guy that called Azazel a… man in a red gimp suit who thinks his accent is actually a character trait? That guy?”</em>
</p><p>“One and the same,” Charles said, chuckling fondly.</p><p><em>“Charles! No! You can’t! Can’t you see that he’s trying to get into your pants to draw out all of your dirty little secrets before he writes a damning article about you and ruin your career?” </em>Raven yelled, Charles wincing again and just putting his sister on speakerphone.</p><p>“Raven, Erik isn’t like that,” Charles said, his sister snorting.</p><p><em>“Suuuure. Have you heard from Azazel since that interview? NO. You haven’t. And that’s because Erik Lehnsherr single-handedly </em>ended<em> his music career. Charles, he’s going to </em>finish <em>you!”</em></p><p><em>‘I hope he does finish me. In bed,’ </em>Charles mused to himself, snickering silently.</p><p>Audibly, Charles just sighed at his sister.</p><p>“Raven, I know that you’re worried and that is very sweet of you, but you never had a hand in my dating life before you made me join X Factor, and frankly, that hasn’t changed now. So, thank you for worrying, but really, there is nothing to worry about. Erik is…”</p><p>Perfect? Amazing? Everything I wanted wrapped up in a not-so-little German hunk?</p><p>Mhmm.</p><p><em>“Don’t come crying to me when your face is plastered all over TV after Lehnsherr writes an article calling you a ‘posh and pompous British twink who takes it up the butt’,” </em>Raven warned, Charles laughing.</p><p>“Would he be lying, though?”</p><p><em>“True, but that’s the problem – it’s </em>true<em>, so you can’t even deny, deny, deny.”</em></p><p>“Raven, it’ll be fine.”</p><p><em>“You and relationships are never fine, Charles. But </em>fine<em>. Tell me everything after. Well, not everything – just the PG stuff. Gotta go – Irene is calling me,” </em>Raven said, sending Charles a kiss through the phone, which he returned before tucking his phone into his cardigan pocket.</p><p>As Charles cleaned, he thought a bit more about Raven’s words, wondering if it would really be so bad to just… rip off the façade given to him by Shaw and show the world who he truly was. Someone who was a little damaged by his traumatic childhood but was saved by the love of his sister. Someone who was bisexual with a slight leaning towards men, who was known around Oxford as charming but a bit of a slut. Someone, who had never <em>really </em>been in love, so he could only sing love songs about girls <em>‘sweeter than melted chocolate and lemon drop candy’ </em>because he didn’t have to believe it to sing it. Someone who could only write songs about hurt, ramen and genetics, and was really an average dancer, but stayed up late just so he could nail the complex footwork in the second verse of <em>Love Me, Hate Me</em>.</p><p>Someone who wasn’t Charles Xavier of X-Boys, but just Charles.</p><p>The Charles he was with Erik.</p><p>As he waited for Erik to come, Charles began thinking that revealing himself may not be bad, because if Erik Lehnsherr accepted him, surely others would too.</p><p>***</p><p>Erik was a successful journalist, and even though Brotherhood of Music had slumped in terms of income recently, he hadn’t been in want of money. He was comfortable, and had a nice apartment and a good, reliable car.</p><p>Still, he had been momentarily stunned when Charles had opened the door to his penthouse apartment, ushering Erik in with a wide smile and a joking “Welcome to my home, AD.”</p><p>“Nice place,” Erik said as he glanced around, pulling off his light jacket for Charles to hang on a coat rack by the door.</p><p>“Honestly, it wasn’t that nice a few hours ago,” Charles admitted, giving Erik a wry grin. “Don’t, uh, look in that closet over there. I may or may not have just thrown my mess in there to deal with later. It’s my proverbial ‘rug to sweep everything under’.”</p><p>Erik chuckled a little at Charles’s admission that he was normally a bit of a slob, the singer leading Erik further into his home with a lingering nudge on his elbow.</p><p>Though Charles didn’t live in a sprawling mansion (though Erik believed that he probably owned one somewhere in the city, or maybe another apartment in New York or the like), his penthouse was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the LA night. The furnishings were all understated but with an air of elegance, and Erik could tell that everything in his home was quite pricy.</p><p>Still, none of it seemed out of place; other homes could sometimes feel like a showroom, beautiful to look at but so impersonal. Charles’s apartment, though well-designed, looked lived in, things neat but not <em>perfect</em>. The blankets on his large L-shaped couch were rumpled, like he had been snuggled up under them just a moment ago, and there was an empty mug with a lone tea bag sitting on the coffee table next to a worn hard cover of <em>‘The Once and Future King’</em> – surprisingly, Erik’s favourite book.</p><p>The journalist’s eyes followed the title to a wall of books, all of which looked to have been read sometime before. They were crammed in there and almost over-flowing, with no order to them; they weren’t stacked alphabetically by author or title, and the coloured spines clashed with each other in a mish-mash of hues. The lower shelves had books that looked more worn than the others – Charles’s favourites, he supposed. Everything was in slight disarray but kept safe and clearly loved – that seemed so like Charles.</p><p>Erik turned back to the man then. He was still wearing the jeans from earlier, but instead of the T-shirt and cardigan combo, he donned an oversized and fuzzy knitted jumper which swallowed his shorter frame up. He was painfully adorable, and yet, he was looking at Erik like he had been in the dance studio – full of want, desire and heat. Erik swallowed, suddenly very aware of how warm the apartment was – or was it just him that was warm?</p><p>
  <em>‘G’tt, I’m wearing too many clothes right now. Is Charles feeling warm, too? He must be boiling under that jumper, he should just take it off, along with everything else he’s wearing.’</em>
</p><p>Clearing his suddenly parched throat, the journalist quickly handed Charles the bottle of wine he had brought. Erik’s mother had taught him to never come to someone’s house empty-handed, but Erik had no idea what to get Charles who was someone who probably already had everything. So, Erik just went for the simple option and bought wine.</p><p>Charles let out a joyous laugh when he saw the wine Erik had gotten him.</p><p>“You remembered my favourite wine,” Charles said, and Erik shrugged, a little embarrassed.</p><p>“You only mentioned it earlier this afternoon, it’s not like it’s been a long time. Nothing to be so worked up about,” Erik said, Charles shaking his head and placing the wine down on top of a bench in the spacious living room.</p><p>“No, it shows that you cared enough to listen. Not everyone does that, you know,” Charles said, Erik frowning.</p><p>“You must have only talked to shitty listeners then,” Erik replied, Charles chuckling.  </p><p>“Seems that way. Although, they all turned out to be shitty people, too. Different from you, I’d wager,” Charles murmured, stepping towards Erik, until they were almost toe-to-toe. Their eyes locked, the attraction that had been simmering almost to boiling point still there. It had been a constant thrum under Erik’s skin since they parted at the café earlier, and from the look in Charles’s eyes, he knew the younger man felt the same way.</p><p>Charles tentatively pressed his hands against Erik’s chest, leaning into him. Erik could smell Charles’s shampoo like he had freshly showered, and his hands were hot even through the fabric of Erik’s shirt. Charles let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head up to look at Erik’s, lips just one little twitch away from Erik’s own.</p><p>“I know I invited you over for drinks first, but…” Charles whispered, eyes dropping to Erik’s mouth, eyes dark.</p><p>“Yeah, I know, but I couldn’t care less about drinks right now,” Erik breathed out in a rush, reaching up to cup Charles’s face, leaning forward to kiss him, hard. Charles immediately surged into Erik’s touch, hands scrabbling at the taller man’s chest, then moving to slide around his neck to pull him closer. Erik groaned at the way Charles nipped at his lower lip, teasing his lips apart. Charles’s mouth knew what it wanted, and Erik gave it to him willingly.</p><p>Charles kissed deeply and frantically, moaning as their tongues tangled wetly and Erik met his enthusiasm blow for blow, hands sliding down Charles’s neck and torso to rest on his hips, digging in there. The squeeze of his fingers made Charles gasp into his mouth, the sound stirring Erik up. Erik began stepping forwards, Charles moving backwards with him until he was crowded against a wall, groaning with desperation.</p><p>“You’re wearing too many bloody clothes,” Charles muttered when Erik detached their lip with a slick noise to mouth at Charles’s jaw and neck. Erik huffed out a strained breath.</p><p>“That was exactly what I was thinking, you’re reading my mind,” Erik murmured against Charles’s skin, feeling the column of Charles’s neck move as the younger man laughed, hands sliding under the hem of Erik’s shirt.</p><p>“Darling, I think we want the same thing right now,” Charles smirked, pulling Erik’s shirt over his head and dropping it without ceremony to the ground. “Bedroom?”</p><p>Erik grinned, nodding and pulling at Charles’s own shirt, the man laughing.</p><p>“Yeah. Bedroom.”</p><p>***</p><p>Erik woke up first, feeling tired but sated, and maybe even a little sore. He and Charles had fucked well into the night, not having to hold back since they both knew they had the next day off.</p><p>After coming twice each, they had managed to pull themselves out of bed to soak in Charles’s grand jacuzzi bathtub, the two of them lazily wrapped up in each other’s arms surrounded by rose-scented hot bathwater, smelling like the same shampoo and sharing warm kisses that weren’t like the earlier, more frantic ones.</p><p>The kisses they shared in the bath weren’t done to get somewhere, as a means to an end. They just kissed because they wanted to, and because they could, revelling in the feel of each other.</p><p>So, they kissed and drank wine as they lounged in the bath, Charles sitting between Erik’s legs and leaning against his chest, head dropped back on the slope of Erik’s shoulder. They had stayed in the bath until the hot water cooled and their fingers pruned, drying each other off with fluffy towels before falling back into bed, limbs tangling before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.</p><p>Even though they had gone to bed later than Erik usually would, he was a natural early riser and found himself groggily opening his eyes at a time that felt premature. Sunlight drifted through a gap in the curtains, casting a line of gold across Charles’s bare chest.</p><p>Erik blinked, rubbed his eyes blearily, before smiling. Erik took the opportunity to brazenly stare at the man beside him; smooth, freckled chest rising and falling with soft puffs of breath. He had one hand resting on his belly, just above where the blanket covered his bare lower body, and his other arm had been stretched out beneath Erik’s neck. His face was serene, red lips slightly parted as he breathed lightly. He didn’t snore, but every now and then he let out small sighing noises, nose twitching and dark lashes fluttering against his soft cheeks. His hair was sex-mussed and tousled with sleep, and Erik was sure he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his 30 years on earth.</p><p>Erik was surprised Charles didn’t wake up from the feeling of someone staring at him, or when Erik couldn’t hold himself back from running his fingers through Charles’s messy hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Charles’s nose just crinkled adorably, the man mumbling something incoherent, naturally shifting towards Erik’s warmth.</p><p>Charles rolled over towards Erik, and the older man chuckled, letting him nestle himself in Erik’s arms and enjoying how he felt tucked beneath his chin. Charles settled further into his embrace when the man began to draw slow lines up and down the bumps of Charles’s spine, tracing the curves of each of his vertebrae with the rough pad of his finger.</p><p>Erik had counted to 19 when Charles woke up with a throaty moan, tightening the grip he had around Erik’s waist.</p><p>“Nnngh, s’ too early,” Charles mumbled, nuzzling his face into Erik’s chest.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s early any more, it’s already-”</p><p>Suddenly, <em>‘Sweet Love’ </em>started playing from Charles’s bedside table, Erik jumping while Charles just buried his face further into Erik’s chest, groaning.</p><p>“Erik, turn it <em>offff</em>,” Charles whined, patting Erik’s back pleadingly. “I forgot to turn off the alarm last night. I got… distracted.”</p><p>“Charles… your alarm tone is <em>‘Sweet Love’</em>?” Erik asked, astonished. “<em>Seriously?</em>”</p><p><em>“Sweet like melted chocolate, ngh, lemon drop blah blah,”</em> Charles mumble-sang through a yawn, and Erik could feel his hands moving behind his back in what he figured was a half-asleep version of the choreography. Erik let out an amused grunt, Charles shifting as the other man moved to reach over him to slam his hand down on the alarm, shutting off the bloody song.</p><p>“Well, I’m wide awake now,” Erik grumbled, Charles chuckling, pulling back and rubbing at his eyes before looking at Erik.</p><p>“It’s a great wake-up song,” Charles said, Erik rolling his eyes and leaning down to capture Charles’s mouth with his, the younger man sighing happily into the touch. “Mm. Good morning to you too.”</p><p>“Good morning,” Erik murmured in return, flopping over onto his back. Charles followed him and curled up to his side, kissing his shoulder.</p><p>“Sleep well?” Charles asked, rubbing a hand up and down Erik’s toned arm, resting his chin on the journalist’s shoulder. Erik smiled and turned his head to kiss the crown of Charles’s hair, humming with contentment.</p><p>“Yeah. Sleep was good,” Erik said, Charles purring happily.</p><p>“But waking up was even better.”</p><p>
  <em>Especially when I get to wake up to this.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was originally planning to write a more explicit sex scene (with D E T A I L S) but I wasn't feeling up to it lol Writing smut is tiring for me, seriously.<br/>Just imagine that they had super hot sex and a grand old time ;)</p><p>And the next chapter is the last one - it'll be up soon :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a week later, but the morning began very much the same as it had every other morning since Charles and Erik slept together.</p><p>Erik woke up first, immediately rolling over onto his side and reaching his long limbs out to curl around the bundle of heat he knew was sleeping in the bed next to him. Hands met smooth skin that smelled like soap and fabric softener, warmed by the blanket and so, so cuddly.</p><p>Erik let out a content sigh, burying his face in the dip of Charles’s spine, breathing him in. The younger man was still asleep, chest rising and falling as he lay on his side, one arm under his head.</p><p>Knowing that it was still too early to awaken since Charles’s alarm hadn’t gone off yet, Erik let himself sink into Charles’s heat, closing his eyes as he languidly nuzzled at Charles’s back, like a cat rubbing up against his owner’s leg.</p><p>It was as Erik was beginning to doze off again that Charles woke up with a soft chuckle, reaching down to clasp Erik’s hand that hung across his waist.</p><p>“Mm, you feel like you’re very comfortable there,” Charles said, voice croaky from sleep. Erik laughed into the slope of Charles’s upper back, kissing his skin there. Charles brought Erik’s hand up to his mouth to kiss it, before adjusting himself in Erik’s loose embrace to face him. “Good morning.”</p><p>“Morning,” Erik replied, kissing Charles’s red mouth, before pulling back. “Coffee?”</p><p>“Ugh, yes please. I’m going to need two if I’m going to get through the stage rehearsals today. You really wrung me out last night,” Charles said, scrunching up his face as he yawned, flopping back on the bed as Erik climbed out of it. Charles did not hide the way he stared at Erik’s nude ass as he pulled out a fresh pair of briefs from a drawer in Charles’s wardrobe, Erik turning around and rolling his eyes.</p><p>“How your fans actually believe that you’re an innocent man is beyond me,” Erik said, walking back over the bed to lean over and kiss Charles again, before leaving to make the two of them some coffee.</p><p>Charles spent a few more minutes in bed just checking messages on his phone, replying to Moira’s “just making sure you’re awake, rehearsal at 9, remember” text and responding to some more messages from Raven, one of which was link to a very interesting article that made Charles grin. Charles read over the article quickly and screenshotted some key bits before rolling out of bed as well. Like Erik, Charles pulled on some underwear, but also an oversized and fluffy knit jumper which hung just below the swell of his ample ass, sleeves long and falling over his hands.</p><p>Erik was stirring Charles’s usual (blasphemous) order of vanilla syrup, caramel and cream into his pastel tie-dye mug, and was about to squirt the customary cone of whipped cream on top of it when Charles entered the kitchen. The singer looped his arms around Erik’s middle and squeezed him tight. Erik just hummed, smiling at the weight pressed against his back, fluffy and warm.</p><p>“Your mug of sugar,” Erik said, handing Charles the steaming hot cup with an affectionate eye roll, taking a sip out of his plain black coffee.</p><p>“You made my mug of sugar perfectly, thank you,” Charles said after taking a sip, licking at the whipped cream before kicking open the fridge with his foot, peering inside and not finding much at all. “Ugh, I’m running out of food. I’ll have to go grocery shopping sometime. I hate grocery shopping.”</p><p>“Only because people keep recognising you when you try to buy lube,” Erik said, Charles scrunching up his nose.</p><p>“Which is why <em>you </em>should buy the lube, darling.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>sure</em>,” Erik said, snorting. “Because God forbid your fans find out that you have sex.”</p><p>Charles laughed at that, pulling out his phone to show Erik the article he had screenshot just moments before, the German’s eyes narrowing as he read it, before his mouth broke out into a wide, toothy grin.</p><p>It showed a pretty blurry photo of Charles wearing a cap and glasses but not much else to hide his identity grabbing onto someone’s arm with a wide grin. The other person’s face was obscured by some shelving, but it was obvious that it was a man from his tall, muscular build.</p><p>“They’re calling you my ‘mystery boyfriend’,” Charles giggled, stepping closer to Erik to drag him into a sugary kiss, holding his diabetic concoction out of the way. “People are also saying that you turned me gay, apparently.”</p><p>“Not how it works,” Erik scoffed against Charles’s mouth, the singer just laughing.</p><p>“Hm, they’re not far from the truth, actually,” Charles said, grinning slyly. Erik raised a brow, Charles leaning into his arms, burying his face in Erik’s neck.</p><p>“I only really understood that I also liked guys when I saw your Azazel interview 8 years ago,” Charles said, chuckling in the crook of Erik’s neck, the older man’s arms coming around him.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Charles echoed, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of Erik’s arms around him. “You were just so hot in that video, Erik. I couldn’t help myself.”</p><p>***</p><p>Erik was sitting in the audience area near the front of the stage as Charles and the rest of X-Boys worked out their marks on the concert stage. It was a large stadium, the stage a sleek black colour and spread out into the standing audience in a large X shape. The twisting light backdrop was fitted with many large TV screens that would project close ups of the band members’ faces.</p><p>As they practised the dance to ‘<em>Sweet Love’</em>, Charles would often wink at Erik, maintaining eye contact whenever he could, seeming to dance for Erik and Erik alone. When Charles was singing about <em>Sweet Love </em>and rolling his hips like that just for Erik, the journalist found that he could stomach the terrible lyrics. He would deny that his heart clenched every Charles would mouth <em>‘you’re my sweet love’ </em>with a salacious wink though, squirming where he sat on a wobbling fold-out chair.</p><p>It really shouldn’t have been so… mesmerising. The song was still terrible, the lyrics still horrible, but somehow seeing <em>Charles</em> dancing and singing to Erik like he meant every <em>‘you’re my sweet love, your sweet love sustains me’</em>, and Erik couldn’t help but smile like a fool, showing too many teeth.</p><p>When Charles broke formation on the stage, everyone else was confused, stopping mid-dance to look at Charles. The sound guy, Bobby, was also extremely confused, hand moving to stop the music. However, when he saw that Charles was still moving to the music, he just shrugged and gestured for the lighting man to focus on Charles.</p><p>Moira looked on with exasperation, head dropping into her hands as she mumbled ‘And here we go’. Hank tilted his head to the side, lost. Alex raised a brow and leaned back on his heels, curious. Darwin smiled a little, nodding his head in appreciation. Sean, on the other hand, was grateful to be given a break so he could have a snack.</p><p><em>“You’re my sweet love, darling,”</em> Charles sang, Erik snorting when the man changed ‘baby’ to ‘darling’ like the cheesy thing he is, sauntering over to the edge of the stage and wiggling his finger at Erik, smirk on his lips. <em>“Come here darling and give me your sweet love.”</em></p><p>Erik got up from his chair, rolling his eyes but walking towards Charles, the wiggle of his finger tugging on a string tethered to his chest and pulling him into the singer’s gravity. When Erik reached the edge of the stage, Charles dipped down low, dragging his index finger up Erik’s chin.</p><p>“You’re sweeter than melted chocolate and lemon drop candy,” Charles continued, wiggling his hips dirtily, and suddenly the boyband stage turned into a strip club platform. All Charles would need was a pole and less clothes to complete the look, and people were definitely whispering around them, but Erik didn’t care. He didn’t care at all when Charles leaned down to nip at Erik’s mouth, quickly and teasingly. The moment he did so, the stadium erupted with a mixture of excited gasps and loud cheers, Charles grinning cheekily. The touch only lasted a moment because Charles stood up again to spin before dropping his ass low again, this time fisting the front of Erik’s shirt firmly, planting a wet and sticky kiss on Erik’s mouth.</p><p>“Mhmm, sweeter than melted chocolate and lemon drop candy,” Charles murmured against his mouth, the contact broken when Erik burst out with an endeared (but also mildly horrified because <em>the line was so bad</em>) laugh.</p><p>“Terrible,” Erik snorted, Charles pulling back with an indignant remark that was rendered obsolete when Erik shook his head and pulled Charles back down. The singer giggled, dropping himself so his legs hung over the edge of the stage, Erik nestled between them, and let the journalist kiss him in full view of everyone filthily, reminiscent of their morning make-out session that left them running a little late to rehearsals.</p><p>The supportive cheers and enthusiastic wolf-whistles were suddenly cut short when someone shouted “<em>Cut the fucking music!”</em>, Bobby scrabbling to pull back the sound dials. Everyone turned to the source of the noise, including Charles and Erik who both look mildly put-off at having to pull their mouths off each other. Shaw, the epicentre of the loud noise, stormed across the stage while waving an iPad around wildly in his hand, eyes locked on Charles.</p><p>“What,” Shaw spat, “is the meaning of this?!” The man’s face was red as he stomped his way towards Charles and Erik, soon dragging the back of Charles’s plain T-shirt with his arms and wrenching him up. Charles yelped as the fabric snagged his neck, wincing in pain when he was hauled up to his feet. Erik glared daggers at Shaw, growling and grabbing at the edge of the stage to haul himself up and drag <em>Shaw </em>by the neck of his black silk shirt.</p><p>“Get your fucking hands off him,” Erik warned, voice low; he sounded relatively calm, but there was a dangerous quality to his voice that made the stage workers, lighting crew and sound people widen their eyes and scuttle off.</p><p>Shaw whirled to Erik, shoving a meaty finger into his chest, so hard that it would probably bruise. Erik didn’t back down though, shoving Shaw’s chest back, lips pulled back in a snarl. When Shaw stumbled back, Erik moved himself to stand between him and Charles, shielding the smaller man behind him. Erik felt a little better when Charles grabbed onto the back of his shirt, hand smoothing over his lower back comfortingly.</p><p>“You…” Shaw seethed, looking like he was about to slam the iPad over Erik’s head for a moment, before deciding that Erik’s taller and slightly broader stature was disadvantageous to him, instead just shoving the screen at Erik’s face. “You’re to blame as well, you bastard. Care to fucking explain this?!”</p><p>The screen showed a similar article to the one Charles had been sent by Raven that morning, and when Charles recognised some of the pictures he laughed, peering around Erik’s side with bright eyes.</p><p>“Oh, Erik! Look, there are some other photos. Those angles are much more flattering, my left side has always been better than my right. You look rather dashing too, it’s almost unfair. So photogenic,” Charles gushed, smiling up at Erik, who just scoffed.</p><p>“You don’t have a bad side, Charles,” Erik said, Charles looking at him fondly, before winking.</p><p>“Of course not, darling. My right side it <em>good</em>, it’s only that my left is even <em>better</em>.”</p><p>“So humble,” Erik said, returning Charles’s smile with one of his own. The two were about to kiss, ignoring Shaw completely, when the man screeched again.</p><p>“This is unbelievable! You two will fuck up everything I’ve worked for!” Shaw roared. “I will not let X-Boys be ruined by a pair of fucking homos!”</p><p>“And what are you going to do about it? If you’re going to get me to break up with Erik, I will not,” Charles asked, nose scrunching up at Shaw’s blatant homophobia, hand tightening at Erik’s back. Charles’s words tickled Erik’s heart, but the warm feeling was stunted by Shaw’s disgusting rampage. Instead, Erik mirrored Charles’s affronted expression, looking at Shaw like he was rotten garbage stinking up the entire stage.</p><p>“I can <em>fire</em> you, Xavier!” Shaw threatened, wiggling his finger at the two men. “I <em>made </em>you, Charles! I <em>own </em>you! You would never have become what you are without me! You’re choosing your boyfriend over me, over your fame, your success. You’re <em>nothing </em>without me!”</p><p>“Sure, fire me the week before our world tour starts. That would be great for your <em>business,</em>” Charles said, voice flat as he glared at Shaw. His blue eyes that were usually liquid oceans languidly rolling with waves under the sun had hardened to arctic shards of ice.</p><p>Shaw gnashed his teeth together, finger shaking at Charles but seemingly unable to find the words, Charles’s use of the word <em>business </em>a slap to the face.</p><p>“Xavier you… I will <em>not </em>let you ruin this! I will not have a fag in <em>my </em>band, and don’t you go thinking that I actually need you! I can fire your little homo ass and you would never even-” Shaw continued, but was stopped when the opening beat of <em>‘Love Me, Hate Me’ </em>started to blare from the surrounding speakers, drowning out his voice. Everyone jumped at the sudden noise, looking up to the sound booth where Alex and Darwin were.</p><p>“What is the meaning of-” Shaw screamed, but was cut off when Alex spoke, still hooked up to his microphone, voice carrying across the stage.</p><p>“If you’re going to start firing people because of their sexual orientation, you won’t have much of a band, Shaw,” Alex said, Darwin chuckling beside him.</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” Shaw asked, eyes narrowing as his hands balled into shaking fists of rage at his sides.</p><p>“Hands up if you’re not straight!” Alex shouted through the microphone, immediately raising his hand. Darwin laughed beside him, hand going up as well, Shaw’s mouth dropping open as his eyes widened to saucers. Charles grinned, raising his hand and moving to stand beside Erik, linking his free hand with the journalist’s.</p><p>Shaw saw his life (and paycheck) flashing before his eyes, immediately turning to Hank and Sean who were still on the stage.</p><p>Hank slowly raised his hand, cheeks a little red but giving Charles a small, supportive smile. Sean was a little confused, looking at his band mates who were all raising their hands for some reason, joining in even though he had no idea what was going on.</p><p>“So, there you have it,” Charles chirped happily, wiggling his fingers in the air. “Now, I’m sure that, uh, you don’t want your lucrative little business to suffer because you no longer have any employees, Shaw. And I <em>also </em>don’t think you want us to sue you for unfair dismissal either…”</p><p>“And I <em>definitely </em>don’t think you want the video to be released on the internet,” Alex called out from the sound booth, down towards the side of the stage, where Moira was filming everything on her phone. Shaw paled, everything he had said in the past five minutes replaying over and over in his head.</p><p>“Erik, you don’t happen to have any journalist friends who would be interested in a story about a record boss who abuses his employees and discriminates based on sexual orientation, do you?” Charles asked the man beside him, who made a show of thinking carefully, nodding with his eyes locked onto Shaw’s.</p><p>“I have a few contacts… I’m sure TMZ would be interested too, though,” Erik said, Charles humming.</p><p>“Oh, yes, I’m sure! I wonder what would happen if they managed to get a hold of the video…”</p><p>Shaw’s face flashed red and white, the man pointing his fingers uselessly at all of the band members, Erik and Moira, before stomping his way back out looking like a toddler not getting what he wanted after a dramatic temper tantrum.</p><p>Everyone stared after the man who was, still, their boss. Erik glared at him all the way until he disappeared backstage, before turning to Charles.</p><p>“I really do have some contacts, you know,” he told Charles seriously, the singer just letting out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“I’m sure you do,” Charles said, his band mates returning from the sound booth and heading towards him.</p><p>“What do we do now, Charles? Did we just… blackmail Shaw? Is that what just happened?” Moira asked, heading over from the wings of the stage, looking a little worried as she fiddled with her phone.</p><p>“Well, first we should contact the authorities, a lawyer, and probably the COO,” Charles said, smirking. “Mr Quested might be interested to know that his boss has been a very naughty boy, and that he could be in for a little promotion.”</p><p>“How devious, Charles,” Darwin laughed, patting the older man on the shoulder.</p><p>“Janos has always been a lot nicer than Shaw, and he honestly gets pushed around by the bastard as much as everyone else does,” Alex quipped, Sean and Hank nodding in agreement.</p><p>“So things will be alright?” Moira asked, brow still creased with worry.</p><p>“They will be,” Charles assured her, the boys around him all smiling at their manager. “If anything, under new management, things will be more than just alright.”</p><p>***</p><p>Things were alright – better than alright, even. Sure, the next few days were tumultuous, with a power struggle erupting within Hellfire Records which escalated into a public ousting of a large player in the music industry. Shaw’s fall from grace had been dramatic, fiery and very, very well-covered by the press.</p><p>‘X-Boys’, ‘Hellfire Records’ and ‘Charles Xavier gay’ were all trending topics leading up to the start of the world tour in LA. The video of Shaw abusing Charles with homophobic slurs and threatening to fire him had ended up on the internet, Shaw immediately coming under fire by not only Charles Xavier and X-Boys fans, but also other members of the public and the music industry.</p><p>Fans tweeted and made posts screaming their support for their boys, other celebrities condemned Shaw’s words and praised Charles for his strength and bravery in the face of such hatred, while the LGBTQ community and their supporters all rallied behind Charles and his boyfriend, who had been revealed to be none other than harsh music journalist Erik Lehnsherr.</p><p>Of course, there were some haters – the homophobic bigots and keyboard warriors were given new ammunition and jumped out of the woodwork when the news story broke. Charles, who has had the voices of the public shouting in his ear since his audition on X Factor tuned them out with practised ease, but Erik was not so successful. Erik couldn’t care less about comments about <em>himself</em>, but when he read comments calling his Charles a ‘fag’ and other derogatory names, the older man saw red.</p><p>Erik was only stopped from unleashing an online tirade by Charles closing the screen of his laptop, pushing it off his lap and replacing it with himself – it turned out that Erik was an even more passionate lover in bed when he was riled up, much to Charles’s delight.</p><p>Despite the haters, the #CHERIK, #X-BOYS4EVA and #X-PRESSLOVENOTHATE tags were popular everywhere online, and only bolstered the hype for the beginning of X-Boys’ tour. The new CEO of Hellfire Records, Janos Quested, held a press conference to inform everyone that the company was under new management, and that the new Hellfire Records would support its artists no matter what.</p><p>With such public focus on the group, it was only natural that the media and paparazzi only became more eager to follow the members around, particularly Charles. People wondered about his sexuality, about whether he had been hiding it, or if this was all just a media ploy; Charles didn’t say anything, just smiled coyly for the cameras and thanked fans for all the support.</p><p>Like with the online comments, while Charles was used to the scrutiny, Erik was not; Erik was not unheard of, but as a journalist whose claim to fame was the written word, people knew of his name and prose but not much else. Now, his face was almost as famous as Charles’s.</p><p>Erik wouldn’t say he was <em>comfortable </em>about it – he was a more solitary man by nature, and he had lashed out at the throng of reporters and camera-wielding fiends that cloyed around him suffocatingly, shouting <em>“Tell us about your relationship with Charles Xavier!” </em>and <em>“How long and you and Charles Xavier been dating?!”</em> whenever they caught sight of him. Erik had yelled right back, telling them all to ‘<em>fuck right off and leave him and Charles in peace’</em>, glaring at cameras as he did so. If looks could shatter lenses, everyone was sure that no paparazzo would be left unscathed.</p><p>“How are you still able to smile at them when they constantly attack you like a pack of rabid dogs?” Erik grumbled, spent and a little sticky and lying on top of a boneless Charles Xavier, words muffled into the man’s chest. Charles laughed, kissing Erik softly on his head before beginning to card his fingers through Erik’s hair.</p><p>“I learnt to block them out, I suppose – learnt to shield my mind from them,” Charles said, hand pausing their soothing ministrations in Erik’s hair, making the man let out a noise of reproach at the ceased movements. Charles let out a short laugh again, his fingers resuming their comforting movements, before sighing.</p><p>“Erik…” Charles started, biting his lip. His lover let out a throaty noise to show that he was listening and not asleep (though two rounds of hot sex plus Charles’s calming fingers were very close to sending him off).</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“You don’t regret this, do you?” Charles asked, hesitantly. Erik frowned at Charles’s words, the man’s fingers pausing in his hair again.</p><p>“What makes you say that?” Erik asked, before freezing and pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at Charles seriously. “Do <em>you </em>regret it?”</p><p>“God, no!” Charles said quickly, shaking his head as Erik let out another throaty noise, flopping back down, appeased.</p><p>“Good. Because I don’t either,” Erik said, kissing Charles’s bare chest.</p><p>“You didn’t sign up for all… this, though,” Charles said, voice glum. “I like being surrounded by people, I like being social. I knew what I was getting into when I chose this career. But I’ve seen how you look when the paparazzi swarm around you. You don’t like that kind of attention, and I feel bad that, because of me, you have to-”</p><p>“Charles, shut up,” Erik said, rolling his eyes and shifting himself to pepper kisses against Charles’s stomach, working his way up his abs and chest as he spoke. Charles’s breath hitched. “I know where you’re going with this, and it’s stupid. Yes, I’m a music reporter and I’m not a celebrity, but I have hung around enough celebrities and been in the business long enough to know what it entails. Yes, the… publicity sucks, and I want to run over those reporters that camped in front of my shitty apartment complex the other day, but in the end it’s all worth it, because I get <em>you</em>. You’re worth it, Charles. So, just shut up and let me hold you.”</p><p>But the time Erik finished, his kisses had reached Charles’s lips, lingering there for a long while. When he pulled back, Charles’s eyes were a little watery, and his kiss-bitten lips curled in an awed, affectionate smile that radiated with the purest happiness.</p><p>“Has anyone ever told you that you are ridiculously sweet?” Charles asked, Erik snorting.</p><p>“No,” Erik replied, pecking Charles’s lips again. “I’m only sweet to you.”</p><p>“Like melted chocolate and lemon drop candy,” Charles mused, and Erik groaned, kissing the man again just to stop him from reciting those ghastly lyrics again.</p><p>“Charles, shut up.”</p><p>***</p><p>Erik stood with Moira to the side of the stage, out of the view of the audience but in a position that allowed them to watch the opening night of the X-Boys X-pression tour. Erik found himself smiling and tapping his foot to the beat of <em>‘Love Me, Hate Me’ </em>as he watched Charles perform; under the stage lights and the screaming of fans, all of the members performed with more energy and passion than they had in rehearsals. The unabashed joy on Charles’s face as he performed for his fans warmed Erik’s heart.</p><p>It was obvious that Charles loved what he did. Sure, the songs he sang were terrible and his sparkling costume chafed in unmentionable places, but Charles was <em>happy</em>. He projected that happiness all over the stage, his smile wide and eyes brighter than the stage lights. Erik may not like the band’s music, but from the screams and tears of adoration from the crowd, Erik didn’t think that it was <em>all </em>bad. Music, in the end, existed to make people feel things, to inspire and captivate. Even though Erik knew that Charles could do more, sing songs like <em>Paralysed </em>that <em>meant</em> more, Charles was already doing something good – making people happy.</p><p>Erik could understand their fans a bit better now, he felt. Even if he still thought that <em>‘Sweet Love’ </em>was the shittiest song of the 21<sup>st</sup> Century.</p><p>The final note of ‘<em>Love Me, Hate Me</em>’ played and the crowd went wild. Erik knew after sitting in on rehearsals that the climax and final song of the concert, <em>‘Sweet Love’, </em>was up next (which was hilarious to Erik, since <em>‘Love Me, Hate Me’ </em>essentially described his feelings for the song in question). Love Charles, hate the song.</p><p>“Thank you LA!” Sean shouted, the crowd responding with more screams. Alex and Hank smiled at their fans lining up closed at the X-shaped extensions from the stage, leaning down to high-five them as they walked back to the main portion of the stage.</p><p>“You have been a fantastic audience on our opening night,” Darwin said into his microphone, the big TV screen behind him showing a close-up of his handsome face, which turned to look at his band mates, who all smiled back at him.</p><p>“We’ve been saving the best until last,” Alex said as the fans began screaming again, the chorus of female voices chanting <em>‘Sweet Love, Sweet Love!’</em>, making the X-Boys laugh. “You got it!”</p><p>“But first,” Hank said, voice soft as some stage hands began wheeling a grand piano onto the stage, four members of the X-Boys stepping out of the way while Charles stepped forward. Erik frowned at the movements on the stage – there hadn’t been any of this at any of the rehearsals, and Erik had gone to the final one just yesterday.</p><p>Charles turned to look at Erik with a smile then, hair sweaty after dancing, cheeks red with exertion and moisture making his shirt cling to his back a little – and he was absolutely beautiful. The camera focused on his face, blue eyes impossibly bright on the big TV screen.</p><p>“As you all know, a lot of things have happened over the past week,” Charles said, the crowd screaming <em>‘We love you Charles!’. </em>The singer smiled at that, blowing a kiss towards the crowd, some girls reaching forwards like they could catch it. “Thank you! Thank you, for all of your well-wishes, for all of your support, and for your never-ending love! It means a lot to me, more than you all know.” The crowd aww’d at Charles’s words as the man began to walk to the piano that had been deposited in the middle. All of the lights focused on Charles, the other X-Boys disappearing into the shadowy background.</p><p>“Now, we’ve saved <em>‘Sweet Love’ </em>for last, but before we get to that, I have to get something off my chest first,” Charles said, turning away from the crowd to look at Erik again. “You see, you have all shown me so much love, and I was inspired. You all know that, very recently, I’ve met someone, someone that is very important to me.”</p><p>The crowd roared to life, the TV screen showing the curve of Charles’s mouth, the warmth in his eyes. Erik was speechless, unable to look away from Charles, heart hammering.</p><p>
  <em>Oh G’tt.</em>
</p><p>“I’ve written lots of songs before, some of them silly like <em>‘MSG and Me’</em>, and other heavy like <em>‘Paralysed’</em>. I’ve written songs that no one has heard but the walls of my shower, and some that I’ve left unfinished. Those unfinished songs, you see, all had one similarity,” Charles said, the crowd quietening, reeled in by Charles’s voice, which softened.</p><p>Charles was no longer speaking to stadium full of people, nor to a camera. No, under the spotlight, everything else faded away – everything except Erik. It was him that Charles was speaking to now, him and no one else.</p><p>“I could never finish those songs because, well, they were all love songs,” Charles said, letting out a laugh. “I could never finish them because I didn’t know what it was like to love someone. At least, not until now.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Erik said, unable to say anything else, his mind a storm of <em>‘G’tt, Charles, you cheesy bastard, fuck, he’s so beautiful, I love him, fuck, how the heck does he exist’</em>.</p><p>“Now, someone has shown me what it’s like to love, and I was able to finish writing a love song for the first time,” Charles said, smiling at Erik as he stepped backwards, before slowly seating himself at the piano. He pulled off the microphone taped to the side of his face, and adjusted the one in the stand hovering next to the piano.</p><p>“This is that song,” Charles said, the crowd screaming while Erik covered his mouth, not sure what to do with the feelings about to overflow inside him. On the TV screen, Charles’s fingers could be seen pressing against the keys gently, piano music wafting through the stadium. As his fingers moved through the introduction of the song, Charles kept speaking.</p><p>“I know I talk a lot, but there are some things that are hard for even me to say with words,” Charles said, smiling. “So, I put them all into this song. I hope you understand.”</p><p><em>‘I do,’ </em>Erik answered silently as he watched, enraptured.</p><p>“This song is dedicated to the person I love,” Charles said, Erik choking. “It’s called <em>‘Not Alone When I’m With You.”</em></p><p>Charles was silent, letting his fingers glide across the keys. His chest swelled as he took in a breath for one beat, two beats, three beats.</p><p>Then he sang.</p><p>And Erik almost collapsed under the weight of his love.</p><p>‘Your magnetic field, you drew me in,<br/>
I saw you when I was adrift,<br/>
In a sea all alone, I didn’t even know what I was looking for,<br/>
Until I saw you, and felt your mind,<br/>
You glowed so bright, a beacon in the nothingness,<br/>
You pulled me ashore, and kept me warm,<br/>
Your words, oh, your words,<br/>
You whispered them but I could hear clear,<br/>
Straight into my mind, you opened up,<br/>
Made me feel like I’d never felt before,<br/>
And darling, no matter what happens,<br/>
If the world is against us, even if we’re worlds apart,<br/>
I’ll find you, I want to be by your side,<br/>
Because you made me realise that I’m not alone,<br/>
Because I’m not, not when I’m with you.’</p><p>When Charles finished singing, the piano fading out as his hands slipped from its keys, everything was silent; the crowd were stunned into noiselessness, tears streaming down their faces as they watched completely slack-jawed. The song was beautiful, and was awash with all of the colours of Charles’s heart – it was more honest than anything the X-Boys had released before, and held emotion that <em>‘Sweet Love’ </em>could only aspire to behold. It was honest because it <em>was </em>Charles’s heart. Charles’s heart spoke directly to Erik’s heart, which stopped in his chest as Charles stood up and walked over to him.</p><p>The camera followed the singer as the crowd was pulled from their stupor when Charles rose, the stadium beginning to fill with the sound of applause and cheers.</p><p>Charles didn’t hear anything, though, as he walked off stage and threw himself at Erik, kissing him with as much passion as he had put into the song, and then some.</p><p>“I hope you understand,” Charles murmured against Erik’s lips, the journalist letting out a wrecked noise and pulling him in closer. <em>‘Just how much I love you. That I want to be with you, no matter what.’</em></p><p>“I understand,” Erik whispered, voice thick. <em>‘We want the same thing.’</em></p><p><em>‘We do,’ </em>Charles thought, as the other four members of X-Boys rushed back onto the stage, Alex shouting that it was time for the grand finale.</p><p>Charles and Erik parted from their embrace when Sean called out “Charles, stop making out with your boyfriend! It’s<em> ‘Sweet Love’ </em>time, but not that kind of sweet love!” The crowd were delighted at that comment, screaming as Charles laughed, kissing Erik again before grinning.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Charles vowed, heading back towards the stage, but looking over his shoulder to give Erik a mischievous smile. “Don’t hesitate to sing along, darling. I know this is your favourite song.”</p><p>“Shut up, Charles,” Erik said, though his voice was far too rough with emotion, and much too fond.</p><p><em>‘Sweet Love’ </em>was a perfect end to a perfect concert – the crowd went wild, X-Boys smiled throughout the whole performance, and even Erik found himself thinking - </p><p>
  <em>‘Your sweet love sustains me too, Schatz’.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span class="u">X-BOY’S CHARLES XAVIER: AN IN-DEPTH AND INTIMATE LOOK INTO THE SINGER THAT HAS CAPTURED HEARTS AROUND THE WORLD, AND MUCH, MUCH CLOSER TO HOME</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>…Charles Xavier smiled at me, curling up on his couch in his navy silk pyjamas and his favourite baby-blue cardigan, which I told him was a shade lighter than his eyes. He laughed at that, swatting my arm and telling me that <strong>‘there better be a question in there, darling’</strong>.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I assured him there was just one more question, and he nodded, waiting expectantly, eagerly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">What does the future hold for you, now that the X-Pression Tour has ended? Is this going to be a new chapter in your life? Or a whole new novel? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The ‘Paralysed’, ‘Not Alone When I’m With You’ and ‘Mind Reader’ singer quirked up his eyebrow, the same way he does when he is amused by an interesting move in an afternoon game of chess.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“That’s technically three questions,”</em>
  </strong>
  <em> he replied, before falling into silence and thinking carefully, like he always did. The oldest X-Boys member always contemplated questions seriously and with care.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“It is hard to predict the future. Some may have that gift, but unfortunately, I do not. I can tell you about some of the things I want for my future, however.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The singer smiled again, and I urged him to continue.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Firstly, I would like some black forest cake and a cup of tea – sometime in the near future, preferably. Then, I think I would like to take a short break; travelling the world on tour was wonderful, but it is always unfortunate that we don’t get to enjoy seeing the cities we visit as much as we would like. I would like to maybe visit Germany, for reasons I’m sure you would know.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I did.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“The new CEO of Hellfire Records has given us time to recuperate after the tour, but we have been discussing taking X-Boys into a new direction stylistically. We’d like to explore new genres, since we ourselves are constantly evolving. We would like to show our fans different sides of ourselves. I’d be interested in writing some new work for a future album, but that is sometime far into the future. For now, though, I would like to relax and spend some time cuddling my boyfriend, so I think this is a good place to end the interview.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Charles Xavier turned off my recorder at this point, so I couldn’t write about what happened after. What I can say, though, is that I am very interested to see what Charles Xavier and the X-Boys deliver in the future.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whatever it is, I am sure that it will be far better than the train wreck that was X-Pressions and that musical sludge called ‘Sweet Love’.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“Your love letter to your boy is trending,” Emma chuckled as she passed by Erik’s office, the journalist pausing in the review he was writing for some indie artist’s debut EP.</p><p>“My work always does well, Emma,” Erik said, feigning casualness, though his heart leapt at the news. Then, he realised what Emma said. “And it wasn’t a ‘love letter’. How many times do I have to tell you that?”</p><p>“It reads like a love letter to me, sugar,” Emma said, clearing her throat. “You mentioned his eyes every second sentence, and you basically ended your piece by unsubtly bragging that you two fucked after you finished the interview.”</p><p>“I said we <em>cuddled</em>!” Erik retorted, Emma raising a brow.</p><p>“And we’re supposed to believe that you only cuddled? Please, sugar. Charles’s fans may be young, but even they weren’t fooled. And when you mentioned chess, was that a euphemism for something? Some secret kink?”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Erik grumbled, glaring at his boss who just chuckled. “Anyway, you need to hold up your end of the deal, Emma.”</p><p>“What deal?”</p><p>“Don’t be a bitch,” Erik grunted, eyes narrowed. “I wrote your piece on X-Boys. Technically I wrote <em>two</em>, because I also wrote that one about Charles. So, hold up your end of the bargain, or so help me-”</p><p>“Ah, ‘The Photo’,” Emma said, clicking her manicured fingers. “Already done, sugar. You can check, if you want.” Emma threw her phone to Erik, and he quickly checked to make sure she had deleted The Photo.</p><p>“And your computer? Laptop? Hard drives?”</p><p>“All deleted too,” Emma said. “You have my word, Erik. You know I always uphold my end of a deal.”</p><p>“Yes, after you blackmail people into accepting them in the first place,” Erik replied hotly, getting up from his chair to get ready to head home from work. “But yeah, if you said you deleted them, you deleted them.” Emma smiled sweetly at Erik, and that look made him pause, one arm through a sleeve in his jacket. “<em>What</em>, Emma?”</p><p>“Oh, nothing, sugar,” Emma said, waving her hand as she continued to smile, looking far to amused for whatever was on her mind to be ‘nothing’.</p><p>“<em>Emma</em>, what did you do?” Erik pressed, his boss laughing.</p><p>“Relax, Erik. I kept my end of the bargain. Do stop frowning like that or your wrinkles will make you look like a middle-aged perv compared to your jailbait-looking boyfriend,” Emma said, walking out of Erik’s office when he flipped her off, grabbing his bag and heading back to Charles’s place.</p><p>It had taken a while, but Erik and Charles had worked out how to evade the press for the most part; it helped that Charles’s apartment complex housed many celebrities and people in the public eye, meaning that security there was quite rigid. Charles had managed to get Erik exempt from all of those security checks, and now he could just directly enter the secure underground carpark and head up to Charles’s penthouse without fuss.</p><p>When Erik reached Charles’s place, the door opened before he could even get his own key out, Charles tumbling into him and kissing him desperately. Erik was shocked for a moment, catching Charles as they both stumbled, before kissing back just as eagerly, albeit confused.</p><p>“I’m home?” Erik asked breathlessly when Charles fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him inside and beginning to suck on Erik’s neck, hands fumbling with the journalist’s shirt. Erik’s cock sprung to life immediately, helping Charles pull his shirt off him, stepping forward to back Charles into the wall, the man moaning as Erik slipped his thigh between Charles’s legs.</p><p>“I’m not complaining…” Erik panted as Charles continued to suck at his neck, collar bones and chest, fingers fumbling to undo Erik’s belt, the clanging of the metal making Erik lick his lips. “But did something happen?”</p><p>Charles detached his lips from Erik’s skin now to laugh, lowering himself onto his knees to look up at Erik. For a moment, Erik felt the world stop turning; it was just him and Charles, his breath knocked out by the sheer blueness of the man’s eyes and the way he gazed up at Erik like the older man<em> was </em>the world.</p><p>“Yeah, I saw something earlier today, while you were at work,” Charles said, sliding Erik’s belt out, throwing it to the ground and working at Erik’s fly, hands brushing across the bulge of Erik’s erect cock.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Charles said, corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah, I saw something, and <em>fuck,</em> did it make me horny. You were so fucking hot, Erik. I couldn’t wait for you to come home the moment I saw it, and I’ve been hard ever since but I didn’t want to touch myself, not until you came home.”</p><p>Erik startled at that, hand flying to grab Charles’s, which were about to pull his pants down. Charles whined, looking up at Erik needily, but the man just stared down at him.</p><p>“Charles, what <em>exactly </em>did you see today?” Erik asked, Emma’s suspicious smile coming to mind.</p><p>
  <em>She wouldn’t have…</em>
</p><p>Charles smiled a little wider, tugging himself from Erik to crawl over to the coffee table where his phone sat. He hurried back on his knees, flipping the screen around to show Erik <em>exactly </em>what he had seen, and it was something Erik had seen many, <em>many </em>times before but pretended did not exist.</p><p>It was <em>The Photo</em>.</p><p>The one from Erik’s college days, when Emma had forced him to dress in drag after he lost a bet; bright red bob, tight spaghetti strap blue sequin minidress, black boots, full make up.</p><p>Erik knew never to bet against Emma that night.</p><p>And now, even though Emma had technically kept up her end of the bargain by deleting The Photo from all of her devices, he knew to <em>never </em>trust her again.</p><p>Because she sent The Photo to Charles, who was now smiling up at him hungrily with the mortifying picture in his palms.</p><p>Charles must’ve seen the panic in Erik’s eyes, because he laughed, turning his phone off and tossing it onto the couch, hands tugging at Erik’s pants eagerly once again.</p><p>“Darling, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You were beautiful,” Charles assured him, taking Erik’s cock into his hands, still smiling that sugar-sweet smile that tasted like melted chocolate and lemon drop candy. “I’ll show you how beautiful I think you are, right now.”</p><p>When Charles wrapped those red lips around him, Erik found that he didn’t care about The Photo any more.</p><p>Not one bit.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Sometime in the future…</em>
</p><p>Like usual, Erik woke up obscenely early and instinctively rolled over to try and snuggle Charles, a morning routine he indulged himself with every day. It was barely light outside, but strangely, the bed beside him was empty and cold. Erik frowned, opening his eyes and squinting in the dark.</p><p>Charles’s side of the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in at all, and Erik sighed. The journalist had gone to bed earlier that night, Charles pressing a kiss to his cheek and sending him off to sleep without him because he had been struck by a sudden burst of inspiration at around midnight. It appeared that he didn’t end up going to sleep at all, something that happened every now and then.</p><p>Erik pulled himself out of bed, the cold sting of the morning air making his skin prickle with goosebumps. Pulling on a discarded jumper and grey sweatpants from a velvet armchair in the corner of their large bedroom, Erik padded through their palatial house in Beverly Hills, heading down the stairs and straight to Charles’s music studio.</p><p>Erik held himself carefully to try and avoid making too much noise, eyes scanning the room for his husband. He found him quickly, the lump of blankets under the grand piano a familiar sight, surrounded by some paper with music notes scribbled across them. Erik’s heart squeezed with affection, quietly walking over to the man who was curled up beneath the piano swathed in blankets, sleeping on the plush rug.</p><p>Charles was snuffling a little, making relaxed breathy noises, and Erik smiled. The journalist dropped to his knees to crouch beneath the piano too, pushing some of Charles’s slightly overgrown hair from his closed eyes. The sleeping man was so tired after almost pulling an all-nighter that he barely stirred, just mumbling something incoherent under his breath. Charles subconsciously nuzzled his face towards Erik’s warm palm, making the man chuckle softly.</p><p>“Good morning, Liebling,” Erik whispered, another part of his usual morning routine. Even though Charles couldn’t hear it, Erik felt like he needed to say it, softly pressing a kiss to Charles’s forehead.</p><p>It has been almost 14 years since Charles and Erik met, almost 10 since they got married, and just over 8 years since X-Boys disbanded, much to the sadness of now-20-something-year-olds everywhere. Even though the group themselves were no more (only reuniting for the occasional charity concert every now and then), the individual members were very active.</p><p>Alex had become a successful solo act, known for his sex-appeal and progressive lyrics. Darwin transitioned into the smooth jazz scene like he had always wanted, while Sean became a permanent fixture on broadway. Hank, in the end, decided that performing was not what he wanted to pursue, and ended up working alongside Charles in the record company they co-owned.</p><p>Charles was the CEO of Graymalkin Sound, and Hank was his right-hand-man and COO. Their company was relatively small compared to all of the large record labels in LA, but due to the reputations of both Charles and Hank, their company had done well for themselves in the handful of years they’ve been active.</p><p>It also helped that the two had a good eye for talent. One of their artists was Scott Summers, their ex-band mate Alex Summer’s younger brother, who was a handsome crooner with a sensual and smooth voice. Jean Grey, his girlfriend, was this generation’s Pop Diva, with a voice that was powerful and vibrant. Her debut album, <em>Phoenix</em>, had topped billboard charts for multiple weeks straight. There was also Ororo Munroe, who went by the stage name ‘Storm’ – a youthful soul singer with an abundance of natural talent.</p><p>Though Charles was officially the CEO of Graymalkin Sound, Hank was in control of most of the business affairs, while Charles focused on the music. Charles wrote most of the songs for his artists, while also occasionally writing scores for films, such as the successful action movie ‘First Class’.</p><p>While Charles’s career had changed in a drastic direction, Erik’s hadn’t. Erik still worked for Brotherhood of Music alongside Emma. Since it was common knowledge that the terrifying journalist Erik Lehnsherr was head-over-heels in love with ex-boyband member Charles Xavier, lots of his interviewees had thought that he wouldn’t be as critical about their work. But they were wrong, and even though he was happily married and in love, Erik still wrote scathing and brutally honest reviews – so, now he was just known as the prickly journalist that is only nice to Charles Xavier and Charles Xavier only.</p><p>Crawling back out from under the grand piano, Erik walked over to the computer, which was only in sleep mode. Giving the mouse a nudge, Erik settled into Charles’s comfortable chair, taking a curious look at the product of Charles’s inspiration and his need to tire himself out so badly.</p><p>It was a mostly finished song, titled <em>‘TOP SECRET SONG FOR ‘THE’ DAY! SUPER TOP SECRET! DO NOT PEEK! FOR CHARLES’S EYES AND EARS ONLY! NAME PENDING!’</em></p><p>Erik snorted quietly at his husband’s intermediary song title, glancing at Charles, who was still lightly snoring under the piano. Putting on Charles’s headphones, Erik sneakily pressed play.</p><p>There was a light piano melody, something Charles was well-known for, in a soft, soothing melody that sounded like a caress.</p><p>And then Charles’s voice, just speaking, and still as lovely as it was when he was only 24.</p><p>
  <em>‘This is a little song I wrote for you, Erik. You are the love of my life, and nothing makes me happier than being able to live by your side. Happy 10<sup>th</sup> Anniversary, darling.’</em>
</p><p>Erik smiled, heart full, and pulled off the headphones, stopping the recorded song from playing any further.</p><p>Their anniversary was tomorrow, and Erik could wait.</p><p>He had forever with Charles, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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